WALDA 


JRobel 


BY 

MARY  HOLLAND  KINKAID 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
PUBLISHERS  .-.  MCMIII 


Copyright,  1903,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  March,  11)03. 


PUBLISHERS'    NOTE 

For  obvious  reasons,  the  real  name  of  the  community 
described  herein  is  withheld ;  but  the  scenes  are  pict 
ured  with  almost  photographic  fidelity,  and  the  life 
portrayed  is  the  life  actually  led  to-day  by  a  religious 
co-operative  community  in  a  Western  State. 


W  A  L  D  A 


W  A  L  D  A 


SO  that  is  Zanah  there  at  the  foot  of  the  hill? 
It  is  a  pretty  village,  Hans  Peter.      Step  more 
quickly  with  my  bag.     You  are  slow,  my  boy.      Re 
member  there  is  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  for  you  in  my 
pocket." 

The  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  who  spoke  took 
a  few  strides  along  the  plank  walk  that  led  from  the 
railway  station  to  the  village  of  Zanah,  half  a  mile 
away.  Then  he  stopped  to  light  a  cigar  while  he 
waited  for  the  fat,  short-legged  figure  that  was  bend 
ing  under  the  weight  of  a  large  valise  to  overtake 
him.  The  man  was  in  the  early  prime  of  life.  When 
he  took  off  the  soft  felt  travelling-hat  he  wore,  a 
strongly  modelled  head  was  silhouetted  against  the 
sky.  He  looked  across  the  field  of  purple  cabbages 
to  the  village  that  lay  in  the  hush  of  the  summer 
evening.  The  gabled  roofs  of  the  houses  were  half 

i 


W  A  L  D  A 

hidden  by  trees,  but  on  a  rise  of  ground  the  porch 
and  belfry  of  a  little  church  were  plainly  visible. 

Hans  Peter  dropped  his  burden  and,  imitating  the 
stranger,  removed  from  a  shock  of  straw-colored  hair 
a  cap  mended  with  red  yarn.  The  boy  wore  baggy 
trousers  of  blue  denim  buttoned  to  a  blouse  of  the 
same  material.  The  man  smiled  as  he  looked  at  the 
odd  figure. 

"  Do  you  hear  me,  Hans  Peter?  There  is  a  quarter 
in  my  pocket  for  you.  I  will  find  two  quarters  if 
you  walk  faster.  Do  you  know  what  I  say  to  you?" 

The  boy  replaced  his  cap,  nodded  his  head,  and 
answered,  with  a  German  accent: 

"Thou  art  talking  to  the  simple  one,  the  village 
fool,  sir.  But  Hans  Peter  knows  thou  wouldst  give 
him  silver." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  boy  had  s'poken  since 
the  station  agent  had  called  him  by  name  and  told 
him  to  show  the  stranger  to  the  inn  in  the  village  of 
Zanah,  just  across  the  hill.  The  man  gave  his  guide 
a  sharp  look.  Hans  Peter  had  a  round  face  that 
was  as  blank  as  if  no  human  emotion  had  ever  been 
written  upon  it.  His  pale  eyes  had  a  sleepy  look,  and 
yet  there  was  nothing  in  their  expression  to  indicate 
lack  of  intelligence. 

"The  village  fool — nonsense,"  said  the  stranger. 
"Here  is  one  piece  of  silver.  See  if  it  can't  loosen 
your  tongue." 

2 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Thy  money  belongs  to  Zanah,  where  no  man  is 
richer  than  another,"  said  Hans  Peter.  "I  will  give 
it  to  the  Herr  Doktor." 

"For  a  fool  you  speak  well,"  said  the  stranger, 
casting  a  glance  of  curiosity  at  the  boy.  "Why  are 
you  called  the  simple  one?" 

Hans  Peter  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  an 
swered  : 

"It  may  be  because  I  talk  too  much  to  strangers." 

The  man  laughed.  He  had  a  clear-cut,  clean 
shaven  face,  which  was  almost  stern  in  repose,  but 
when  he  smiled  it  was  plain  that  the  spirit  of  youth 
still  dwelt  in  him. 

"Well,  Hans  Peter,  we  shall  continue  our  march 
to  Zanah,"  he  said.  "  One,  two,  three.  There!  We 
are  off  at  a  better  pace." 

He  took  the  valise  from  Hans  Peter,  who  began  to 
trot  along  at  his  side.  The  lad  was  not  taller  than 
a  twelve-year  old  boy,  but  there  was  something  so 
strange  about  him  that  the  man  asked  him  his  age. 

" One-and-twenty,"  replied  Hans  Peter.  "If  the 
Lord  had  not  made  me  a  fool,  thou  wouldst  know  that 
I  have  a  man's  years." 

There  was  a  little  quiver  in  the  voice  of  the  village 
fool,  and  it  touched  the  heart  of  the  stranger.  He 
put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder  and  said,  gently: 

"Of  course,  I  knew  you  were  not  a  child.  You 
seemed  small  beside  me;  but  I  should  have  noticed 

3 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  you  are  a  man.  I  am  glad  to  know  you  first  of 
all  in  Zanah,  for  I  want  you  to  be  my  guide  while  I 
am  among  the  people,  who  are  said  to  be  different 
from  those  I  know  out  there  in  the  world." 

The  boy  raised  his  eyes  to  the  western  bluffs,  which 
seemed  to  touch  the  crimson  sky.  Then  he  nodded 
his  head. 

"Hans  Peter  will  do  what  he  can,"  he  promised, 
"but  the  colony  elders  forbid  us  to  talk  to  those  who 
come  from  the  wicked  cities,  where  people  live  not 
according  to  the  ways  of  God." 

They  moved  on  through  the  cabbage-field,  and  the 
board  walk  presently  led  to  a  grass-grown  lane  that 
widened  into  the  village  street.  The  street  wavered 
uncertainly  between  vine-covered  fences  which  shut 
in  old-fashioned  gardens  all  a  tangle  of  flowers. 
Back  in  the  gardens  were  set  stone  houses  with  big 
chimneys  and  shut-in  porches.  On  benches  before 
the  largest  houses  milk-pans  and  pewter  plates  were 
leaning  against  the  weather-beaten  walls.  The  dia- 
mond-paned  windows  reflected  the  gold  of  the  sunset. 

Up  the  street  the  stranger  and  the  boy  walked 
without  meeting  any  one.  They  came  to  a  strag 
gling  stone  house  with  many  wings  that  opened  upon 
trellised  verandas.  It  differed  from  the  other  stone 
buildings  in  not  being  surrounded  by  a  fence.  Its 
hinged  windows  were  thrown  open  and  white  curtains 
flapped  in  the  gentle  breeze.  Here  the  street  broad- 

4 


W  A  L  D  A 

ened  into  a  public  square,  the  centre  of  which  was 
occupied  by  a  well.  Hans  Peter  paused  before  the 
worn  steps  leading  to  the  front  door. 

"Sir,  this  is  the  gasthaits,"  he  said. 

The  man  looked  up  as  if  in  search  of  a  sign,  but 
there  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  it  was  an  inn. 

"Where  is  the  landlord?"  he  asked.  "This  seems 
to  be  a  deserted  village." 

Hans  Peter  stared  at  him. 

"Where  are  the  people  who  live  in  Zanah?"  the 
stranger  inquired,  choosing  words  that  the  simple 
one  would  understand. 

"I  will  go  for  Diedrich  Werther,"  the  boy  said. 
"It  is  the  sunset  hour,  and  the  men  and  women  of 
Zanah  are  busy  getting  all  their  work  done  before 
evening  prayer." 

Hans  Peter's  German  accent  reminded  the  stranger 
to  ask  whether  it  was  true  that  few  people  in  Zanah 
knew  any  tongue  except  the  German.  He  had  to 
make  the  question  very  plain,  and  then  Hans  Peter 
said:  "  It  is  only  the  fool  of  Zanah  and  the  great  men 
like  the  Herr  Doktor  that  know  English."  He  ap 
peared  to  be  thinking  hard  for  a  moment,  and  after  a 
pause  he  explained:  "  The  English  makes  the  wicked 
ness  of  the  world  easy  to  learn.  It  is  only  the  great 
men,  who  can  put  aside  temptation,  and  the  fool, 
whose  soul  is  accursed,  that  cannot  be  harmed  by 
it." 

5 


W  A  L  D  A 

The  man  gave  the  simple  one  a  glance  of  surprise. 
He  looked  into  the  boy's  face  for  a  moment. 

"I  am  afraid  the  people  of  Zanah  are  not  good 
Americans,"  he  said.  "English  is  the  tongue  of  the 
United  States,  and  all  should  speak  it,  Hans  Peter." 

Hans  Peter  shook  his  head. 

"Some  of  our  young  men  have  learned  the  Eng 
lish  and  they  have  forsaken  the  ways  of  the  colony 
to  go  out  into  the  world.  They  have  listened  to 
Satan,  and  Zanah  hath  seen  them  no  more.  Two  of 
our  girls  ran  away.  The  elders  worry  much  about 
the  people,  for  it  is  hard  to  keep  out  evil  things  with 
the  railway  so  near.  We  are  forbidden  to  make 
images  of  anything  on  earth,  but  colored  pictures 
are  sometimes  brought  to  Zanah." 

"The  elders  must  have  a  hard  task,  indeed,  if  they 
would  keep  out  sin,  Hans  Peter."  The  stranger 
laughed.  "I  am  afraid  the  great  world  will  swallow 
up  the  colony  some  day." 

"The  elders  will  be  guided,  sir.  Zanah  is  waiting 
for  Walda  Kellar  to  speak  with  the  voice  of  prophecy. 
She  will  be  the  inspired  one  who  will  guide  the  people 
of  the  colony." 

"Who  is  Walda  Kellar?"  asked  the  stranger.  But 
the  simple  one  was  silent.  The  question  was  re 
peated. 

"The  fool  hath  talked  too  much,"  said  Hans 
Peter. 

6 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Go  call  the  landlord  of  the  inn,"  commanded  the 
stranger,  turning  to  seat  himself  in  a  splint -bot 
tomed  chair  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  veranda. 

Diedrich  Werther,  the  landlord,  was  slow  in  an 
swering  the  summons  of  his  chance  guest.  When  he 
made  his  appearance  he  walked  with  deliberation. 
He  was  a  short,  stout  man,  with  a  red  face,  and  he  had 
a  wisp  of  sandy  hair  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead. 
His  trousers,  supported  by  knitted  suspenders,  were 
of  such  generous  size  that  they  reached  nearly  to  his 
arm-pits.  He  wore  a  blue  shirt  and  carpet  slippers. 
He  received  his  guest  with  a  lack  of  hospitality 
which  showed  that  visitors  were  of  small  importance 
in  his  estimation.  After  making  a  bow,  which  in 
cluded  the  scraping  of  one  of  his  carpet  slippers  as 
he  bent  his  head,  he  looked  at  the  stranger  with  un 
winking  eyes  that  revealed  not  the  slightest  sign  of 
cordiality. 

"Do  you  permit  travellers  to  stay  at  your  inn?" 
inquired  the  guest,  first  in  English,  but  he  received  no 
response,  and  he  had  to  resort  to  the  German  picked 
up  in  his  student  days  at  Heidelberg. 

"Ja,  ja,"  said  Werther,  and  he  motioned  to  Hans 
Peter  to  carry  the  valise  inside  the  inn. 

"And  can  I  have  dinner  here?"  the  stranger  in 
quired. 

The  landlord  shook  his  head.  Dinner  was  at  mid 
day,  but  a  special  supper  would  be  made  ready  after 

7 


W  A  L  D  A 

evening  prayer.  The  stranger  could  rest  in  the'  big 
chair. 

The  church-bell  rang  out  in  solemn  tones.  It  had 
not  sounded  twice  before  the  street  became  alive. 
From  every  door  issued  men,  women,  and  children. 
Gate  latches  clicked,  and  soon  a  silent,  solemn  line  of 
villagers  passed  the  inn.  From  his  corner  in  the 
porch  the  stranger  looked  on  unobserved.  All  the 
men  were  more  or  less  like  Diedrich  Werther.  They 
wore  the  baggy,  ill-fitting  trousers  and  the  blue  shirt 
which  made  the  host  of  the  inn  of  Zanah  look  like 
the  figures  on  beer  mugs.  The  women  had  on  gowns 
of  blue  calico,  straight  and  full  in  the  skirts,  and 
made  with  plain,  gathered  waists,  over  which  were 
folded  three-cornered  kerchiefs.  Black  hoods,  with 
untied  strings,  covered  their  hair.  Most  of  the  women 
of  Zanah  were  stout  of  body  and  stolid  of  face.  They 
walked  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  from  the 
men.  Among  them  were  many  young  girls,  with  the 
beauty  of  face  that  health  and  innocence  give.  The 
church-bell  ceased  its  ringing.  Peering  out  between 
the  vines,  the  stranger  saw  the  meeting-house  on  the 
hill  beyond  a  bridge  on  the  other  side  of  the  square 
where  the  street  began  to  climb  the  hill.  One  by 
one  the  villagers  passed  through  its  door. 

The  bell  rang  again.  Into  the  little  square  before 
the  inn  came  a  man  different  from  the  others.  He 
was  tall  and  spare  of  figure.  His  oddly  cut  clothing 

8 


W  A  L  D  A 

fitted  his  body  with  snugness.  A  broad-brimmed, 
gray  felt  hat  shaded  a  sensitive  face  marked  with 
strong  lines.  Long  hair,  which  fell  over  the  wide 
collar  of  his  coat,  gave  him  the  look  of  one  who  be 
longed  to  a  past  generation.  Not  old,  and  yet  not 
young,  this  man  of  Zanah  had  an  unusual  beauty 
of  countenance  that  bespoke  patience  and  gentleness. 
At  his  heels  trooped  a  dozen  boys  who  quickly  sur 
rounded  the  well.  Standing  on  moss-covered  stones, 
they  took  turns  dipping  water  from  a  gourd  fastened 
to  the  curb. 

The  man  of  Zanah  stood  with  his  face  turned  in  the 
direction  whence  he  had  come.  Suddenly  he  doffed 
the  gray  felt  hat  and  waited  with  uncovered  head 
while  three  women  approached  the  well.  Two  were 
like  the  many  who  had  gone  by  within  the  quarter- 
hour.  The  third  was  young,  and  her  beauty  was  of 
such  rare  quality  that  the  stranger  stepped  out  to  the 
edge  of  the  porch  that  he  might  better  see  her  features. 
She  was  of  more  than  medium  height,  and  she  walked 
with  a  majestic  bearing.  Her  face,  uplifted  to  the 
sky,  was  lighted  by  the  sunset  glow.  Over  her  fair 
hair,  which  fell  in  two  long  braids  below  her  waist, 
she  wore  a  cap  of  white  lawn,  and  the  kerchief  crossed 
upon  her  bosom  was  white.  She  appeared  to  be  un 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  man  of  Zanah  until 
her  gown  touched  him.  She  turned  her  head  and 
smiled  with  such  sweetness  and  such  friendliness  that 

9 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  stranger,  watching  her,  felt  a  pang  of  envy.  The 
man  bent  his  head  reverently,  and  the  children 
stopped  their  play  to  make  obeisance  to  her.  When 
she  had  passed,  the  man  of  Zanah  stood  motionless 
for  a  moment.  He  was  suddenly  startled  from  his 
reverie  by  the  simple  one,  who  ran  from  the  inn  and 
grasped  his  hand. 

For  a  third  time  the  bell  rang.  The  man  of  Zanah 
patted  the  fool  on  the  head  and  turned  towards  the 
meeting-house.  After  he  had  gone  over  the  bridge, 
the  stranger  hastened  across  the  little  square  to  the 
place  where  Hans  Peter  was  left  standing  alone. 

"Who  is  the  man  that  has  just  gone  up  the  street?" 
he  inquired. 

The  village  fool  said  it  was  Gerson  Brandt,  the 
school-master. 

"And  who  was  the  girl — the  one  with  the  white 
cap?" 

Hans  Peter  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"Was  that  the  one  who  is  to  be  your  prophetess?" 

Hans  Peter  was  silent.  There  was  a  look  of  cunning 
in  his  eyes. 

"Answer  my  question,  Hans  Peter,"  said  the 
stranger,  with  some  impatience. 

"The  elders  say  wise  men  ask  questions  that  fools 
may  not  answer,"  replied  the  simple  one,  and  then 
he  ran  away  across  the  bridge. 


II 


THE  village  of  Zanah  awoke  at  sunrise.  Looking 
from  the  front  window  of  the  inn,  the  stranger, 
Stephen  Everett,  saw  the  quaint  folk  moving  up  and 
down  the  little  street.  In  the  porches  of  a  near-by 
kitchen  women  were  preparing  breakfast.  There  was 
a  strange  quiet  that  at  first  oppressed  the  visitor  from 
the  outside  world.  The  men  and  women  were  silent; 
the  children  walked  with  decorous  steps ;  there  was  no 
unseemly  laughter. 

It  was  a  perfect  morning  of  late  summer.  Beyond 
flat  breadths  of  fertile  fields  the  bluffs  rose  gently,  and 
hill-side  and  plain  were  dotted  with  vineyards.  Wind 
ing  roads  led  through  interlocking  trees  from  which 
birds  were  taking  flight.  The  flowers,  heavily  laden 
with  dew,  gave  out  a  delightful  fragrance.  In  the 
sky  was  the  pink  flush  of  dawn,  and  the  morning 
star  still  kept  watch  over  the  hamlet  from  which  the 
bustling,  every-day  world  was  shut  out. 

The  stranger  in  Zanah  went  in  to  breakfast,  which 
was  served  in  a  long,  low  room  that  had  a  sanded 
floor.  While  he  was  standing  at  the  table,  upon 
which  the  blue  -  gowned  women  waited,  Adolph 

ii 


W  A  L  D  A 

Schneider,  the  head  of  the  colony,  came  to  him. 
Adolph  Schneider  showed  that  he  was  a  man  of  im 
portance.  He  was  stout  and  bald.  A  grizzled  fringe 
of  beard  encircled  his  chin,  which,  on  account  of  his 
short  neck,  rested  upon  his  black  cravat.  He  had 
small  eyes,  set  close  together,  and  he  gave  the  im 
pression  that  shrewdness  was  the  key-note  of  his 
character. 

"  I  am  president  of  the  Society  of  Zanah,"  he  said, 
in  good  English,  "and  I  am  come  to  inquire  where 
fore  thou  hast  visited  the  colony  in  which  the  Lord's 
people  try  to  do  his  will  in  all  humbleness  and  meek 
ness." 

The  broad-rimmed  straw  hat  that  he  wore  set  well 
down  upon  his  ears :  he  had  the  appearance  of  retiring 
into  it  and  his  black  cravat  for  the  purpose  of  watch 
ing  the  stranger.  Everett  rose  to  meet  him. 

"Chance  brought  me  here,"  he  said,  looking  down 
upon  the  Herr  Doktor.  "  I  am  something  of  a  student, 
and  I  want  to  see  the  books  printed  in  Zanah.  Per 
haps  you  will  sell  some  of  them  to  me?" 

Adolph  Schneider  leaned  on  the  stout  cane  he  car 
ried  to  aid  him  in  the  difficult  process  of  walking, 
for  he  had  gout,  which  was  the  result  of  a  long  diet 
of  fat  meats,  sauerkraut,  and  hot  breads.  He  glanced 
at  Everett  with  a  look  of  suspicion. 

"We  have  many  strangers  from  the  outside  world," 
he  said,  "but  all  come  here  to  buy  the  blankets  and 

12 


W  A  L  D  A 

printed  cloths  of  Zanah.  We  have  none  who  would 
look  into  our  books." 

His  small  eyes  rested  upon  the  fine  face  of  the 
stranger,  and  there  was  much  in  it  to  give  any  man 
confidence.  The  dark  eyes  had  a  frank  expression, 
and  the  lips  and  chin  told  that  they  belonged  to  one 
who  had  command  of  himself  while  he  was  fitted  to 
rule  others. 

"I  have  heard  that  your  German  books  are  good 
specimens  of  hand-work,  and  I  coveted  some  of  them 
because  I  am  a  collector,"  said  Everett. 

Schneider  looked  puzzled  and  repeated  the  word 
"collector."  Everett  explained  about  his  library, 
and  he  was  soon  talking  in  the  most  friendly  manner 
to  the  Herr  Doktor,  whom  he  persuaded  to  sit  at  the 
table  and  to  drink  coffee  with  him.  When  Everett 
had  finished  breakfast,  they  went  into  the  front  room 
of  the  inn,  where  Mother  Werther,  the  landlord's  wife, 
sat  behind  a  high  counter  keeping  an  eye  on  the  dog 
eared  register  and  the  blue  china  match-safe.  Everett 
offered  cigars  to  the  Herr  Doktor,  who  declined  them, 
but  was  easily  persuaded  to  try  the  tobacco  that  was 
produced  from  the  pocket  of  the  stranger's  coat. 
After  they  had  smoked  together  Everett  knew  more 
about  Zanah  than  he  had  expected  to  learn,  although 
his  direct  questions  had  been  parried,  and  it  had 
required  adroitness  to  obtain  any  information  con 
cerning  the  colony.  The  prospect  of  a  sale  of  books 

13 


W  A  L  D  A 

melted  the  heart  of  the  village  president,  who  ex 
plained  that  he  managed  the  money  of  the  people. 

"If  thou  wouldst  see  the  books,  come  with  me  to 
the  school-master,"  said  Schneider.  "  Gerson  Brandt 
was  an  artist  before  he  came  into  the  colony,  fifteen 
years  ago.  He  hath  a  rare  gift  in  the  laying  on  of 
colors,  and  he  hath  made  some  of  the  books  of  Zanah 
good  to  look  at." 

They  walked  along  the  quiet  street,  crossed  the  rus 
tic  bridge,  and  climbed  the  little  hill  to  the  meeting 
house,  which  was  a  low  stone  building  covered  with 
vines.  In  place  of  the  steeple  a  modest  little  belfry 
rose  above  the  peaked  roof.  Beyond  the  meeting 
house,  and  separated  from  it  by  a  stone  wall,  was  the 
school-house,  such  a  rambling,  weather-beaten  wooden 
building  as  any  artist  would  delight  in.  It  was  en 
tered  from  a  latticed  porch  with  long  seats  on  either 
side  of  the  door.  There  was  a  garden  in  front  of  it — 
a  well-kept  garden,  with  trim  walks  and  well- weeded 
flower  -  beds.  Over  the  porch  a  sturdy  rose  -  bush 
climbed.  The  hinged  windows  were  thrown  open  and 
the  buzz  of  children's  voices  could  be  heard.  Sud 
denly  all  sounds  were  hushed.  Everett  and  the  Herr 
Doktor  ascended  the  wide  steps,  and  as  they  were 
about  to  push  open  the  door  a  woman's  voice  rose  in 
a  hymn.  It  was  a  voice  clear  and  sweet,  and  its  minor 
cadence  was  sustained  with  wonderful  power.  The 
words  were  German,  and  the  tune  was  monotonous, 

14 


WALDA 

but  the  man  from  the  outside  world  was  strangely 
moved  by  the  melody.  Everett  uncovered  his  head 
and  listened  reverently.  Adolph  Schneider  leaned 
against  the  door-frame,  smoking,  as  if  he  did  not  hear. 
When  the  hymn  was  ended  Everett  asked,  in  a  low 
tone: 

"Who  is  the  woman  that  sang?" 

"Walda  Kellar,"  answered  the  old  man.  He  took 
several  puffs  of  his  pipe  and  then  he  added,  "She 
is  one  called  of  God." 

The  Herr  Doktor  lifted  the  latch  and  stepped  into 
the  long  school-room,  while  Everett  paused  on  the 
threshold.  It  was  a  strange  scene  that  met  his  gaze. 
Seated  in  orderly  rows,  more  than  one  hundred  boys 
faced  the  school-master,  who  stood  beside  his  high 
desk,  but  Gerson  Brandt's  face  was  turned  away 
from  his  charges;  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  figure 
that  chained  Everett's  attention.  On  the  platform 
stood  Walda  Kellar.  She  was  turning  the  leaves  of 
a  big  Bible  which  was  held  before  her  by  the  village 
fool.  The  girl  was  as  tall  and  straight  as  a  sapling. 
The  ample  folds  of  her  blue  print  gown  did  not  hide 
the  slender  grace  of  her  figure.  The  white  kerchief 
crossed  over  her  bosom  revealed  a  rounded  neck,  upon 
which  her  beautiful  head  was  well  set.  Her  cap  was 
white  instead  of  black,  like  the  head-coverings  worn 
by  the  other  women,  and  beneath  it  her  shining  hair 
curled  about  a  broad,  low  forehead.  The  face  was 


W  A  L  D  A 

nobly  moulded.  Everett  could  not  see  each  feature, 
but  he  knew  that  a  pair  of  wonderful  eyes  were  the 
glory  of  her  countenance,  which  had  an  expression  of 
exaltation  he  had  never  seen  before  on  any  face. 

Back  of  the  girl,  knitting  as  if  all  Zanah  were  de 
pendent  upon  her  for  winter  mittens,  sat  a  woman  of 
sour  visage.  As  her  needles  moved  she  watched  the 
school-master  and  the  girl.  When  Adolph  Schneider 
entered  the  room  Walda  Kellar  looked  past  him,  and 
her  eyes  met  those  of  the  stranger  with  a  look  that 
betrayed  no  consciousness  of  his  presence,  although 
he  blushed  like  a  school  -  boy.  Walda  greeted  the 
Herr  Doktor  with  a  slight  inclination  of  her  head. 
Then  she  whispered  to  the  simple  one,  who  closed  the 
Bible,  gave  it  to  the  school-master,  and  took  his  place 
on  a  stool  near  the  teacher's  platform. 

"Mother  Kaufmann,  we  will  go  back  to  the  kinder - 
hatis,"  said  Walda  Kellar.  She  spoke  the  German 
so  that  it  seemed  the  most  musical  tongue  Everett 
had  ever  heard.  The  elder  woman  rolled  up  her 
knitting  and  put  it  into  the  capacious  pocket  of  her 
gingham  apron. 

"Gerson  Brandt,  thy  boys  are  truly  well  behaved; 
thou  hast  done  much  with  them." 

Walda  spoke  to  the  school-master,  who  bestowed 
upon  her  a  look  of  gratitude  and  tenderness. 

"It  is  thou  who  tamest  all  that  is  unruly  in  the 
children  of  Zanah,"  he  said.  And  then  he  walked 

16 


W  A  L  D  A 

down  the  narrow  aisle  between  the  rows  of  tow- 
headed  urchins  and  flung  open  the  door  that  she 
might  pass  out. 

"  Come  hither,  friend  Everett,"  said  Adolph  Schnei 
der,  advancing  to  the  platform,  where  he  met  the 
school  -  master.  "I  want  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  Brother  Brandt.  Brother  Brandt  might  have 
had  that  bubble  men  call  fame  if  he  had  continued 
to  disobey  the  law  of  the  Lord,  for  he  made  images  of 
the  earth  and  sky,  which  is  forbidden  in  the  com 
mandments.  But  he  forsook  his  idols  before  he  was 
one  -  and  -  twenty  and  came  into  the  safe  refuge  of 
Zanah." 

"Yet  even  now  I  long  to  behold  great  pictures," 
declared  Gerson  Brandt,  as  if  he  were  confessing  some 
secret  vice.  "It  is  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  I 
have  looked  on  one." 

"Tut,  tut,  Brother  Brandt,"  said  Schneider;  "if 
thou  wilt  talk  of  forbidden  things,  dismiss  thy  pupils." 

The  school-master  lifted  his  hand,  and  with  a  bene 
diction  sent  the  tow-headed  boys  homeward.  The 
village  fool  alone  of  all  the  school  remained  in  his 
place.  With  his  head  bent  forward  he  appeared  to 
be  asleep. 

"We  have  come  to  see  thy  books,"  said  Adolph 
Schneider,  when  he  had  taken  the  only  chair  in  the 
room  and  placed  his  cane  against  the  black-board. 
"  Is  that  thy  Bible  that  thou  hast  put  so  much  work 

17 


W  A  L  D  A 

upon?"  He  pointed  to  the  big  volume  from  which 
Walda  had  been  reading.  It  had  a  linen  cover 
neatly  sewn  upon  it,  and  might  have  been  the  word 
book  so  much  thumbed  by  the  pupils. 

Gerson  Brandt  went  to  the  desk,  and,  putting  his 
hand  on  the  book,  answered: 

"This  is  my  Bible,  and  I  have  been  making  the 
letters  that  begin  the  chapters.  I  learned  the  secret 
of  the  colors  long  ago  from  a  monk.  It  is  no  sin  to 
make  the  Holy  Book  beautiful,  for  I  have  put  in  it  no 
images,  only  the  letters  in  colors  that  are  symbolic." 

He  spoke  as  if  he  were  making  excuse  for  some 
transgression,  but  the  Herr  Doktor  laughed  leniently. 

"Surely  Zanah  hath  no  fault  to  find  with  thy 
book,"  Adolph  Schneider  said.  "I  want  the  stranger 
to  see  the  letters  in  it." 

Gerson  Brandt  opened  the  Bible,  and  as  he  turned 
the  pages  Everett,  who  stood  beside  him,  felt  an  over 
whelming  desire  to  possess  the  volume.  The  old 
German  text  was  printed  upon  parchment.  The 
pages  had  broad  margins,  and  the  letters  beginning 
the  chapters  were  illuminated  with  designs  so  delicate 
and  so  minutely  worked  out  that  each  repaid  long 
study.  The  coloring  was  exquisite,  and  gold,  of  a 
brilliancy  equalled  in  few  books  Everett  had  ever 
seen,  was  applied  with  a  generous  hand. 

"  How  long  have  you  worked  on  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Five  years,"  the  school-master  said,  "  and  it  is  not 
18 


W  A  L  D  A 

finished  yet."  Gerson  Brandt  loosened  the  linen  that 
he  might  display  the  binding  of  calfskin.  On  the 
front  cover  was  a  monogram,  but  before  Everett 
could  decipher  the  letters  the  linen  was  replaced. 

"This  is  a  beautiful  bo0k,"  said  Everett,  taking  it 
in  his  hand  and  turning  the  pages.  "I  would  give 
much  for  it.  Will  you  sell  it  to  me?" 

Gerson  Brandt's  thin  face  paled.  He  stretched  out 
a  trembling  hand  and  seized  the  Bible  as  he  an 
swered,  coldly: 

"This  book  was  not  made  to  be  bartered  to  any 
man.  It  is  mine.  If  there  is  aught  in  it  that  com 
mands  thy  favor  it  is  because  the  making  of  the 
letters  has  been  a  pleasant  labor  done  with  all  my 
heart." 

The  school  -  master  held  the  volume  close  to  his 
breast.  The  simple  one,  who  had  not  left  his  place 
on  the  stool,  opened  his  eyes.  The  Herr  Doktor 
glanced  from  beneath  his  bushy  brows  with  a  look 
of  surprise. 

"Brother  Brandt,  thou  speakest  without  proper 
forethought,"  said  Schneider;  "thou  knowest  that 
in  Zanah  all  things  belong  to  the  Lord  and  that 
thou  hast  not  the  right  to  say  'my'  or  'mine.'" 

A  dull  red  swept  over  the  face  of  the  school-master, 
and  in  his  eyes  was  a  look  that  told  of  rebellion  in  his 
soul. 

"For  the  good  of  Zanah  we  might  be  persuaded  to 

19 


W  A  L  D  A 

sell  this  Bible,"  the  Herr  Doktor  continued.  "It  is 
worth  a  great  deal  of  money,  for  Brother  Brandt  hath 
spent  upon  it  much  of  the  time  that  belonged  to  the 
colony.  How  much  wouldst  thou  give  for  it?" 

"  I  should  not  think  of  buying  the  Bible  if  the  artist 
who  illuminated  it  is  unwilling  to  give  it  up,"  Ev 
erett  declared.  The  fear  in  the  school-master's  face 
touched  his  heart.  For  the  moment  Gerson  Brandt 
had  lost  the  look  of  youth  which  strangely  sat  on  feat 
ures  that  told  of  suffering.  There  was  a  new  dignity 
in  the  gaunt  figure,  clad  in  its  queer  garments.  Ger 
son  Brandt's  head  was  thrown  back  and  his  lips  were 
tightly  closed.  The  habit  of  repression,  learned  in 
the  long  years  of  colony  life,  was  not  easily  thrown 
off,  and  he  stood  motionless  while  Adolph  Schneider 
scowled  at  him. 

"Wouldst  thou  think  one  hundred  dollars  too  much 
for  the  Bible?"  the  village  president  inquired.  He 
had  risen  and  was  leaning  on  his  cane.  ' '  Zanah  needs 
money,  for  the  harvests  have  been  poor.  Brother 
Brandt  will  sell  the  book  if  thou  canst  pay  the 
price." 

"One  hundred  dollars  is  little  enough  for  the  Bible," 
said  Everett;  "but  we  shall  not  discuss  its  purchase 
now." 

"Yet  thou  wilt  buy  it  if  it  is  offered  to  thee  by 
Brother  Brandt?"  Adolph  Schneider  asked,  persist 
ently  pressing  the  subject  of  the  sale. 

20 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett  looked  straight  at  the  school-master,  and 
his  friendly  eyes  gave  Gerson  Brandt  confidence. 

"  I  would  buy  it  if  it  was  cheerfully  offered  by  Mr. 
Brandt,"  he  replied. 

The  village  fool  aroused  himself  and  stretched  lazi 
ly.  Then,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  little  yellow  gourd, 
he  marked  upon  it  with  a  big  pocket-knife. 

As  Schneider  and  Everett  left  the  school-house  they 
saw  that  something  unusual  had  happened,  for  a 
crowd  was  moving  up  the  street.  Women  were  lean 
ing  over  fences.  Children  followed  the  crowd  at  a 
distance. 

The  Herr  Doktor  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  uncer 
tain  what  to  do.  It  was  quite  impossible  for  him  to 
hasten,  and  he  was  of  a  phlegmatic  nature  not  easily 
excited. 

"Some  one  must  be  hurt,"  Everett  remarked.  "I 
think  they  are  carrying  a  man." 

In  an  instant  Hans  Peter  had  run  down  the  hill. 
The  school-master,  who  had  remained  in  the  school- 
house  to  put  away  the  precious  Bible,  came  to  the 
door  to  look  out.  The  crowd  had  crossed  the  rustic 
bridge. 

"They  are  coming  here,"  Gerson  Brandt  exclaimed. 
"Can  it  be  that  aught  hath  happened  to  Wilhelm 
Kellar?" 

He  hastened  down  the  street,  and  Schneider  stepped 
out  on  the  sidewalk. 

21 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Wilhelm  Kellar  hath  charge  of  our  flannel-mill. 
He  liveth  with  Brother  Brandt,"  explained  the  Herr 
Doktor.  "I  trust  that  no  accident  hath  befallen 
him." 

It  was  plain  that  Adolph  Schneider's  anxiety  was 
twofold,  and  that  he  thought  of  the  loss  which  might 
be  unavoidable  in  case  the  mill  superintendent  be 
came  incapacitated. 

When  Everett  and  the  Herr  Doktor  met  the  vil 
lagers,  Gerson  Brandt  had  stopped  the  crowd  and  was 
bending  over  the  rude  stretcher  upon  which  lay  the 
unconscious  form  of  an  old  man. 

"Wilhelm  Kellar  hath  been  stricken  with  a  sudden 
illness,"  said  the  school-master.  "The  apothecary 
hath  worked  over  him  and  cannot  restore  him.  Will 
not  the  Herr  Doktor  send  for  a  physician?" 

"The  nearest  chirurgeon  is  eight  miles  away,"  re 
plied  Adolph  Schneider.  "Let  the  apothecary  bleed 
Brother  Kellar  as  soon  as  he  is  taken  to  his  bed." 

Seeing  that  the  man  was  emaciated  and  had  no 
blood  to  lose,  Everett  stepped  forward. 

"I  am  a  physician,"  he  said.  "I  will  do  what  I 
can." 

He  directed  the  crowd  to  fall  back  so  that  the  sick 
man  could  have  more  air,  and  helped  to  carry  the 
stretcher  into  an  upper  room  of  the  school-house. 


Ill 


IN  an  upper  room  of  the  school -house  Wilhelm 
Kellar  lay  upon  a  high -post  bedstead  that  was 
screened  by  chintz  curtains  drawn  back  so  that  the 
air  could  reach  him.  His  thin,  wan  face  looked  old 
and  drawn  as  it  rested  on  a  feather  pillow.  He  was 
comfortable,  he  let  Everett  know,  when  the  physician 
went  to  visit  him  early  in  the  morning  after  the  seiz 
ure.  His  tongue  refused  to  frame  the  words  he  tried 
to  utter,  but  his  eyes  showed  his  gratitude.  Everett 
took  a  seat  in  the  heavy  wooden  chair  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  which  stood  in  a  little  alcove.  Beyond  the 
alcove  the  main  room  stretched  out  beneath  the  roof, 
which  gave  it  many  queer  corners.  Rows  of  books 
partially  hid  one  wall.  In  one  corner  a  high  chest  of 
drawers  held  a  pair  of  massive  silver  candlesticks. 
An  old  desk  with  a  sloping  top  occupied  a  little  nook 
lighted  by  a  diamond  window;  here  were  quill-pens 
and  bottles  of  colored  ink.  This  upper  room,  occu 
pied  jointly  by  Wilhelm  Kellar  and  Gerson  Brandt, 
bore  the  impress  of  the  school-master,  who  waited 
now,  leaning  on  the  back  of  an  old  wooden  arm-chair 
polished  with  much  use. 

23 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  He  will  be  much  better,"  said  Everett.  "  He  may 
recover  from  the  paralysis,  but  it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  he  leaves  his  room." 

Behind  the  curtains  there  was  something  like  a 
groan.  The  sick  man  tried  to  say  something,  but 
neither  Everett  nor  Brandt  could  understand  him. 
Suddenly  his  eyes  looked  past  them,  and  there  was  a 
smile  on  his  face.  Walda  entered  the  outer  room  and 
came  to  her  father,  kneeling  down  beside  him,  ap 
parently  unaware  that  there  was  any  one  except  them 
selves  present. 

"Art  thou  better,  father?"  she  asked,  in  the  softest 
tone,  and  then,  burying  her  white-capped  head  in  the 
pillow  beside  him,  she  murmured  something  in  a  low 
voice.  Everett  and  Gerson  Brandt  left  the  two  to 
gether  and  went  into  the  larger  room,  where  the*phy- 
sician  began  to  prepare  some  medicine.  Presently 
Walda's  voice  was  heard  in  prayer.  The  two  men 
waited  reverently  until  the  last  petition,  uttered  with 
the  fervency  of  great  faith,  had  died  away. 

"The  daughter  loveth  her  father;  she  hath  a  true 
heart,"  said  the  school-master.  He  turned  to  the 
little  window  and  looked  out.  Everett,  who  was  dis 
tributing  powders  among  a  lot  of  little  papers,  went 
on  with  his  work  without  making  reply.  The  old 
hour-glass  on  the  high  chest  of  drawers  had  meas 
ured  several  minutes  before  any  word  was  spoken. 
Then  it  was  Mother  Kaufmann  who  broke  the  silence, 

24 


W  A  L  D  A 

She  entered  the  room  with  a  heavy  step,  and  with  a 
"Good-day,  Brother  Brandt,"  stood  for  a  few  mo 
ments  studying  Everett. 

"Where  is  Walda?"  she  asked.  Gerson  Brandt 
made  a  little  gesture  towards  the  alcove. 

"She  hath  no  right  to  come  here  alone,"  the  wom 
an  replied,  with  a  frown.  "She  is  my  care,  and  she 
hath  done  a  foolish  act.  I  shall  forbid  her  to  leave 
the  House  of  the  Women  without  me." 

"Walda  was  drawn  hither  by  anxiety  concerning 
her  father,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "Thou  wilt  not 
wound  her  by  a  reprimand,  Sister  Kaufmann?" 

The  woman  went  near  to  him  and  spoke  in  guttural 
German  some  words  that  Everett  could  not  catch, 
but  from  her  furtive  looks  and  glances  he  knew  she 
was  talking  of  him. 

Walda  passed  through  the  room.  Everett  raised 
his  eyes  and  they  met  the  girl's  glance.  Then  he 
bent  his  head  in  deferential  recognition  of  her  pres 
ence.  It  was  only  a  second  that  each  had  gazed  at 
the  other,  but  the  man  from  the  outside  world  felt  a 
heart-throb.  He  spilled  the  powder  on  the  table 
cloth,  and  after  he  had  brushed  it  off  he  hastily  took 
up  his  hat.  He  went  down-stairs,  Gerson  Brandt  and 
Mother  Kaufmann  following  him  to  ask  about  his 
patient.  The  three  stood  in  the  little  porch  talking 
of  Wilhelm  Kellar.  From  the  garden,  Walda,  who 
stood  among  the  flowers,  watched  them  as  if  she 

25 


W  A  L  D  A 

would  hear  every  word.  Involuntarily  she  was  drawn 
to  the  little  group. 

"Thou  wilt  tell  me  the  truth  about  my  father,"  she 
said,  addressing  Everett.  She  spoke  in  precise  Eng 
lish,  with  a  soft  accent  and  full  tone. 

"He  is  seriously  ill,  but  he  will  recover  from  this 
attack,"  Everett  answered. 

The  girl  folded  her  hands  on  her  breast  in  the  man 
ner  common  to  Zanah. 

"It  is  my  duty  to  rejoice  when  death  freeth  the 
soul,  and  yet  I  cannot  think  of  my  father's  illness 
with  aught  but  sadness,"  she  said,  as  a  tear  trickled 
down  her  cheek. 

"Thou  art  showing  weakness,"  admonished  Mother 
Kaufmann. 

"  Be  not  so  stern,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "She  hath 
not  yet  faced  the  mystery  of  death.  She  is  young, 
and  she  loveth  her  father." 

"Always  thou  dost  find  excuse  for  Walda  Kellar," 
said  the  woman.  "She  is  near  to  the  day  of  inspira 
tion,  and  the  things  of  this  world  should  not  touch 
her." 

Walda  Kellar  appeared  not  to  hear  Mother  Kauf- 
mann's  words.  Her  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Ever 
ett's  face. 

"Thou  art  not  going  away  from  Zanah  soon,  art 
thou?"  she  asked.  "Nay,  stay  to  watch  my  father 
until  he  shall  be  out  of  danger."  There  was  such 

26 


W  A  L  D  A 

pleading  in  her  tone  that  it  touched  the  heart  of  the 
man  of  the  world.  Her  beauty  cast  a  spell  over  him. 

"Thou  forgettest  that  the  stranger  hath  much  to 
call  him  away,"  interposed  Gerson  Brandt.  "Thou 
wouldst  not  be  selfish?" 

"Oh,  I  would  not  think  first  of  self,  and  yet  I  would 
pray  that  the  stranger  might  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
remain  in  Zanah  to  aid  him  whom  I  love  above  all, 
for,  strive  as  I  may,  I  cannot  forget  that  he  is  my 
father." 

She  stepped  nearer  to  Everett;  her  lips  quivered. 

"It  may  be  many  days  before  your  father  is  en 
tirely  well.  It  will  be  a  privilege  to  be  of  service  to 
you,"  said  Everett,  remembering  how  seldom  he  had 
been  of  any  real  use  in  the  world.  "I  will  remain 
until  your  father  is  out  of  danger." 

Mother  Kaufmann  took  Walda  by  the  arm  and  led 
her  down  the  hill  towards  the  House  of  the  Women. 
Everett  felt  a  resentment  towards  the  unsympathetic 
colony  "mother."  For  a  moment  he  was  angry,  and 
then  he  tried  to  make  himself  believe  that  he  was  a 
fool  to  waste  a  thought  upon  Walda  Kellar  or  any 
of  the  villagers.  Still  he  could  not  stifle  his  curiosity. 
A  dozen  questions  rose  to  his  lips,  but  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  look  of  the  school-master  that  forbade 
any  inquiries. 

The  man  who  belonged  to  the  outside  world  walked 
down  to  the  bridge,  and,  turning,  followed  the  turbu- 

27 


W  A  L  D  A 

lent  little  creek  to  a  place  where  there  was  a  deserted 
windmill  beside  a  broken  dam.  Here  he  sat  upon  a 
log,  for  he  suddenly  made  the  discovery  that  it  was  a 
warm  day.  From  the  mill  he  could  look  back  into 
the  village  and  out  upon  the  vineyards  and  the 
broad  fields  that  surrounded  the  picturesque  little 
settlement. 

The  peaceful  scene  soothed  him.  He  fell  to  won 
dering  whether,  after  all,  the  colonists  might  not  be 
wise  to  bar  out  the  world,  but  although  his  thoughts 
travelled  far  away  to  the  busy  scenes  in  which  he  usu 
ally  moved,  they  always  came  back  to  Walda  Kellar. 

The  novelty  of  his  position  rather  amused  him.  He 
had  meant  to  spend  only  a  day  or  two  in  Zanah,  and 
now  he  had  made  a  promise  that  meant  a  sojourn  of 
several  weeks,  perhaps  a  month  or  two.  He  lighted 
a  fresh  cigar  and  let  his  thoughts  wander  back  to 
the  friends  who  were  waiting  for  him  in  the  Berkshire 
Hills,  where  he  had  intended  to  spend  the  autumn 
weeks.  He  knew  that  they  would  concern  them 
selves  but  little  about  his  absence,  for  he  had  always 
been  erratic  since,  when  a  school-boy,  he  was  left, 
long  ago,  with  an  ample  fortune  and  an  indulgent 
guardian. 

His  reflections  were  suddenly  interrupted,  for  he 
heard  a  soft  footstep  inside  the  mill.  In  an  instant 
the  fool  had  darted  out,  and,  running  to  a  tree  that 
formed  a  foot-bridge  across  the  little  stream,  he 

28 


W  A  L  D  A 

stooped  to  conceal  something  in  the  roots.  Everett 
was  interested.  It  was  clear  that  Hans  Peter  was 
executing  some  commission  that  would  not  find  favor 
with  the  elders.  Lest  he  might  excite  suspicion, 
Everett  turned  his  back  and  looked  down  the  dusty 
road.  The  simple  one  ran  lightly  past  him. 

Everett  was  still  facing  the  road  when  he  saw  a 
girl  come  towards  the  mill.  She  passed  the  stranger, 
who  was  almost  hidden  by  the  wild  clematis-vine  that 
covered  a  bush  near  him.  She  was  pretty,  after  the 
flaxen-haired,  pink-cheeked  type.  She  went  to  the 
tree  and  took  something  that  looked  like  a  letter 
from  its  roots.  She  opened  it,  read  it  hastily,  and 
concealed  it  beneath  the  black  kerchief  crossed  upon 
her  breast.  With  quickened  steps  she  turned  back 
towards  the  village.  Half-way  to  the  bridge  she  met 
the  fool,  who  was  returning  to  the  mill.  They  spoke  a 
few  words,  and  the  simple  one  continued  on  his  way. 

"So  you  are  back?"  said  Everett,  handing  a  coin  to 
Hans  Peter,  who  put  it  in  one  of  his  bulging  pockets. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do?"  asked  the  sim 
ple  one. 

"  I  would  have  you  sit  there  on  the  grass  and  an 
swer  my  questions,  Hans  Peter.  First,  who  is  the 
girl?" 

"She  is  Frieda  Bergen,  a  village  maid." 

"What  was  it  you  put  in  the  tree  for  her?" 

Hans  Peter  looked  aghast.     He  thrust  both  hands 
29 


W  A  L  D  A 

into  his  pockets  and  appeared  to  be  thinking.  He 
was  a  strange  figure,  for  there  was  a  curious  blending 
of  shrewdness  and  foolishness  in  his  expression  as  he 
furtively  glanced  up  at  Everett. 

"Thou  wouldst  not  tell  the  elders,"  he  pleaded, 
presently,  "if  I  trusted  thee?  I  fear  nothing,  but  I 
would  not  make  the  maid  unhappy." 

' '  Was  it  a  love  -  letter  that  you  put  there  for 
her?" 

Everett  could  not  repress  a  smile.  He  was  begin 
ning  to  believe  that  he  might  find  some  amusement  in 
watching  the  people  of  Zanah.  When  the  fool  re 
mained  silent  he  repeated  his  question. 

"I  know  not  what  was  in  the  packet,  as  I  carried  it 
for  another,"  said  Hans  Peter.  "Thou forgettest  that 
thou  art  talking  to  the  fool  of  Zanah." 

"Your  wisdom  makes  me  lose  sight  of  that  fact, 
Hans  Peter.  Is  not  love  against  the  law  of  the  col 
ony?" 

"Yea,  all  except  Hans  Peter,  the  fool,  hold  it  a  sin 
to  put  their  affections  on  the  things  of  this  world. 
The  simple  one  cannot  understand  aught  but  that 
which  is  of  the  earth;  he  cannot  reach  up  to  heaven, 
and  so  he  seeth  nothing  wrong  in  love  that  maketh 
men  and  women  happy." 

Everett  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  little  foot 
path.  "  I  suppose  the  elders  are  always  above  temp 
tation?"  he  remarked,  stopping  before  Hans  Peter. 

30 


W  A  L  D  A 

The  simple  one  looked  almost  wise,  and,  apparently 
forgetting  all  prudence,  said: 

"Karl  Weisel,  head  of  the  thirteen  elders,  hath  been 
tempted  for  many  years.  He  loveth  Gretchen  Schnei 
der,  the  daughter  of  the  Herr  Doktor  President,  but 
he  would  have  to  give  up  his  high  place  in  Zanah  if 
he  \vere  to  marry,  and  so  he  preacheth  much  against 
the  wickedness  of  loving." 

"And  what  of  Gretchen  Schneider?" 

"She  hath  always  a  bad  temper;  she  spieth  on  all 
the  youths  and  maids.  Frieda  Bergen  and  Joseph 
Hoff ,  who  loveth  her,  fear  Gretchen  Schneider  most  of 
all  in  Zanah." 

"And  what  will  be  the  punishment  of  Frieda  Ber 
gen  and  Joseph  Hoff  when  it  is  discovered  that  they 
love  each  other?"  j 

"Marriage,"  said  the  simple  one,  solemnly.  "The 
elders  will  rebuke  them,  and  if  still  they  love  not  God 
above  themselves  they  will  be  put  in  the  third,  or  low 
est,  grade  in  the  colony." 

"And  will  they  ever  be  forgiven?  Will  the  elders 
ever  restore  them  to  a  high  place  in  Zanah?" 

Hans  Peter  made  an  awkward  little  gesture. 

"When  they  have  found  out  each  other's  faults 
they  may  repent;  the  Lord's  hand  may  be  heavy  on 
them.  Then,  when  they  see  that  love  bringeth  pain 
and  grief,  they  may  go  before  the  elders,  confess  that 
they  have  erred,  and  when  they  have  proved  that  they 


W  A  L  D  A 

can  serve  God  with  singleness  of  purpose  they  will  be 
put  in  the  foremost  rank." 

Hans  Peter  spoke  as  if  he  were  repeating  a  lesson 
often  conned,  and  Everett  said: 

"You  talk  not  like  the  simple  one,  my  boy.  If  I 
closed  my  eyes  I  should  think  the  Herr  Doktor  him 
self  were  speaking  to  me.  But  tell  me,  Hans  Peter, 
among  all  the  married  people  of  the  village,  how  many 
have  failed  to  repent?" 

"Diedrich  Werther  and  Mother  Werther  alone  love 
much.  They  are  still  in  the  lowest  grade,  and  it  is 
fifteen  years  since  they  were  married.  Most  of  the 
men  and  women  of  Zanah  are  in  the  second  grade,  but 
the  Herr  Doktor  and  Mother  Schneider  are  among  the 
highest.  It  is  said  they  hate  each  other." 

"This  has  been  a  half-hour  well  spent,"  said  Ev 
erett.  "You  shall  have  another  piece  of  silver,  Hans 
Peter,  and  to-morrow  you  will  tell  me  more  about  the 
people  of  Zanah." 

The  simple  one  rose  from  his  place  on  the  grass,  took 
the  coin  into  his  square,  fat  hand,  and  slouched  away 
with  it.  As  he  disappeared,  Everett  thought  of  a 
hundred  things  he  would  have  liked  to  ask  about 
Walda  Kellar.  Yet,  strangely  enough,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  speak  her  name  to  the  village  fool. 


IV 


A<TER  giving  his  promise  to  stay  in  Zanah,  Ev 
erett  found  that  the  day  dragged.  Having  fin 
ished  questioning  the  fool,  he  went  to  the  inn,  where 
he  ate  his  noonday  dinner  in  silence.  Then  he  wan 
dered  among  the  lanes  and  winding  roads  until  it 
was  time  for  the  evening  meal,  at  which  two  taciturn 
women  waited  on  him.  He  made  an  effort  to  talk  to 
the  women,  but  they  pretended  not  to  understand 
his  German,  and  insisted  upon  offering  him  hot  bis 
cuits  and  honey.  He  found  that  he  had  no  appetite, 
and  soon  left  the  table.  As  he  passed  through  the 
big  room  which  served  as  an  office,  he  noticed  that 
Diedrich  Werther  was  not  in  his  usual  seat  beside  a 
little,  round  table  where  at  all  hours  the  innkeeper 
was  to  be  seen  smoking  his  pipe  and  drinking  huge 
cupfuls  of  black  coffee.  Hans  Peter  occupied  his  fa 
vorite  nook  on  the  settle  near  the  fireplace. 

Everett  went  out  on  the  porch,  where  he  took 
possession  of  his  host's  arm-chair.  Naturally  his 
thoughts  wandered  to  Walda.  The  girl  was  a  mys 
tery  to  him.  Although  he  was  slow  to  acknowledge 
it,  he  knew  that  she  aroused  in  him  an  insistent  inter- 
*  33 


W  A  L  D  A 

est.  He  who  cared  little  for  women  suddenly  found 
his  attention  fixed  upon  a  girl  who  belonged  to  a  class 
different  from  any  other  with  which  he  had  ever  come 
in  contact.  He  usually  classified  all  women  he  met. 
He  found  that  they  were  easily  divided  into  com 
paratively  few  types.  Here  was  one  whose  educa 
tion  and  whose  traditions  isolated  her.  He  hoped 
she  would  pass  by  the  inn.  Impatiently  he  looked  at 
his  watch;  the  hour  for  evening  prayer  was  slow  in 
coming.  He  had  risen  with  the  intention  of  strolling 
about  the  square,  when  he  heard  the  meeting-house 
bell  ring.  In  a  moment  the  long  street  again  became 
alive.  As  the  men  and  women  went  by  on  opposite 
sides,  many  of  them  glanced  at  him.  Even  the  de 
mure,  quiet  girls  allowed  their  eyes  to  rest  upon  him 
for  half  a  second.  One,  however,  was  unconscious  of 
his  presence.  Frieda  Bergen,  the  village  maid  who 
had  taken  the  letter  from  the  tree-trunk  at  the  mill, 
looked  across  the  grass-grown  road  to  a  youth  who 
kept  his  eyes  upon  her  until  the  blood  mounted  to  her 
cheeks  and  her  glance  was  cast  upon  the  ground. 

The  school-master  walked  with  his  head  bowed,  as  if 
he  were  deep  in  thought,  and  behind  him  followed  the 
boys,  who  forgot  to  romp  and  play.  He  stopped  on 
the  rustic  bridge.  When  all  the  villagers  had  passed, 
Walda  Kellar  came.  Her  hands  were  crossed  upon 
her  breast,  and  instead  of  keeping  her  eyes  upon  the 
ground  she  had  them  fixed  On  the  clouds,  where  the 

34 


W  A  L  D  A 

crimson  light  was  turning  to  purple  and  gray.  On 
either  side  of  her  walked  women  whom  Everett  had 
never  seen  before.  One  of  them  was  stout,  and  had 
passed  her  first  youth.  As  Walda  walked  by  Gerson 
Brandt  on  the  bridge,  the  school  -  master  and  his 
charges  doffed  their  caps  to  her.  Everett  could  see 
that  Walda  smiled  on  the  man  of  Zanah,  and  that  she 
spoke  to  him.  The  school-master  waited  in  reverent 
attitude  until  the  future  prophetess  disappeared  with 
in  the  church  porch.  Then  he  motioned  to  his  pupils 
to  go  on,  while  he  turned  back  towards  the  inn.  With 
lagging  step  he  came  into  the  village  square. 

"Hast  thou  half  an  hour  to  spend  with  one  who 
would  speak  to  thee?"  he  asked,  addressing  Everett. 

The  stranger  in  Zanah  hastened  to  assure  the 
school-master  that  he  wanted  companionship.  With 
out  being  summoned,  Hans  Peter  appeared  with  a 
chair.  Gerson  Brandt  dropped  into  it  as  if  he  were 
weary,  and  Everett  had  a  chance  to  notice  that  the 
delicate  face  was  worn  and  haggard.  There  was 
something  extraordinarily  impressive  in  the  person 
ality  of  this  man  of  Zanah.  His  gaunt  form  was 
well  knit.  Meekness  and  gentleness  sat  upon  a  face 
that  denoted  an  intense  nature.  The  curve  of  the 
lip  told  of  unusual  will-power,  but  the  eyes  revealed 
the  fact  that  the  soul  of  a  dreamer  dwelt  within  the 
school-master. 

"I  would  talk  to  thee  about  Brother  Kellar,"  he 
35 


W  A  L  D  A 

said.  "  Walda  Kellar  is  concerned  lest  she  hath  been 
selfish  in  asking  thee  to  stay  in  the  village.  The  wom 
en  of  Zanah  have  told  her  that  thou  hast  much  to  do 
in  the  world  and  that  thou  canst  ill  afford  to  waste 
thy  time  here  in  the  colony." 

Everett  forgot  his  reflections  of  the  previous  hour 
and  replied: 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  stay  here.  It  is  a  privilege  to 
be  useful  once  in  a  while." 

"Dost  thou  work  much?"  asked  the  school-master. 

Gerson  Brandt  folded  his  thin  hands  that  bore  the 
marks  of  toil  and  turned  to  scrutinize  the  stranger. 
"It  is  long  since  I  left  the  world,"  he  added.  "I 
know  little  of  it  as  it  is  to-day,  but  I  remember  that 
it  was  a  very  busy  place." 

Everett  could  not  repress  a  smile. 

"You  speak  as  if  the  whole  world  were  one  great 
village,  and  Zanah's  only  rival,"  he  said. 

Gerson  Brandt  laughed,  and  for  an  instant  his  face 
was  young. 

"We  colonists  live  shut  up  in  our  little  valley  so 
closely  that  we  can  hardly  be  called  a  part  of  the 
changing  life  of  America,"  he  said.  "Once  I  loved 
the  things  of  the  world,  and  even  now  I  sometimes 
long  for  what  were  once  my  idols." 

"Your  idols?" 

"Once  I  dreamed  of  being  a  great  artist,"  confessed 
the  school-master.  "That  was  when  I  was  a  youth 

36 


W  A  L  D  A 

in  Munich.  There  came  to  me  a  disappointment. 
Then  it  was  shown  to  my  soul  that  I  must  not  fix  my 
hopes  on  the  things  of  earth.  I  drifted  to  America. 
The  world  was  cruel  to  me.  Somehow  I  found  Zanah. 
My  art  was  a  help  to  the  people  of  the  colony.  They 
took  me  in." 

He  spoke  simply,  but  there  was  a  little  quaver  in 
his  voice,  and  he  turned  his  head  away. 

Everett  rose  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
porch.  The  humble  tragedy  in  the  life  of  the  man  of 
Zanah  touched  him  and  made  him  feel  ashamed  of 
his  own  paltry  aims. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  illuminated  their  books?" 
he  asked. 

Gerson  Brandt  shook  his  head. 

"Not  at  first.  I  still  loved  beauty.  I  yet  had  am 
bition,  and  it  was  long  before  I  could  trust  myself  to 
use  the  colors.  I  had  a  hard  discipline.  For  years  I 
have  made  the  designs  for  the  blue  calicoes  that  the 
mills  turn  out." 

"By  Jove!  I  don't  know  how  a  man  can  surren 
der  all  his  ambitions.  I  cannot  make  it  out,"  Everett 
exclaimed,  pausing  before  the  gentle  school-master. 
"How  long  have  you  been  in  Zanah?" 

"Fifteen  years.  I  was  two-and-twenty  when  I 
came.  Some  day,  before  I  die,  I  mean  to  go  out  to  see 
what  changes  have  taken  place.  I  know  that  men 
are  doing  marvellous  things,  for  sometimes  I  talk  to 

37 


W  A  L  D  A 

strangers.  But  it  is  better  not  to  know  the  world,  for 
it  gives  a  man  so  many  interests  he  forgets  his  God." 
Gerson  Brandt  hesitated  a  moment.  "Even  under 
the  protection  of  Zanah  it  is  hard  for  a  man  to  subdue 
all  the  human  forces  within  him,"  he  added. 

"All  human  forces  are  not  wicked.  Such  a  creed 
as  that  is  not  taught  in  the  New  Testament,"  said 
Everett.  He  felt  irresistibly  drawn  towards  the 
school-master.  All  the  vigorous  manhood  in  him 
resented  the  restrictions  that  Zanah  placed  upon  its 
disciples. 

"There  are  many  that  seem  not  so  to  me,"  assented 
the  school-master,  "but  Zanah  teaches  that  it  is  best 
to  fix  all  one's  thoughts  on  heaven.  Of  course  we 
have  our  restless  hours.  We  who  have  been  touched 
by  the  world  find  it  hard  to  forget.  Those  whose 
thoughts  have  been  centred  always  in  Zanah  are  the 
happy  ones." 

"Walda  Kellar  is  one  of  the  happy  ones,  is  she 
not?" 

Everett  felt  that  the  question  would  be  parried,  and 
he  hesitated  to  ask  it ;  but  his  impulse  to  speak  of  the 
girl  who  occupied  his  thoughts  gained  the  mastery. 
Gerson  Brandt's  face  reddened. 

"There  is  peace  and  faith  in  the  heart  of  her  whom 
the  Lord  hath  chosen  to  be  his  instrument,"  said  the 
school-master,  and,  rising,  he  turned  as  if  to  leave  the 
presence  of  the  stranger.  He  paused  and  added: 

38 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  I  came  here  to  talk  with  thee  of  Brother  Wilhelm 
Kellar.  He  is  the  closest  to  me  of  all  Zanah,  and  I 
would  ask  thee  to  tell  me  the  truth  concerning  him. 
Hath  the  Lord  called  him,  or  will  he  be  spared  to  go 
on  with  his  work  in  the  colony?" 

"If  no  great  shock  and  no  unusual  strain  of  work  is 
put  on  him  he  may  live  many  years,"  said  Everett. 
"He  appears  to  have  much  vitality,  and  I  expect  to 
see  him  able  to  resume  his  duties  within  a  month." 

"The  Unter suckung  is  but  a  month  off,"  said  Ger- 
son  Brandt,  "and  it  will  be  a  sore  trial  to  him  if  he  is 
not  able  to  see  his  daughter  anointed  prophetess  of 
Zanah." 

Gerson  Brandt  did  not  listen  to  Everett's  reply;  he 
rose  and  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  inn  with  his  face 
turned  towards  the  meeting-house.  Down  the  street 
came  Mother  Werther  and  Walda.  The  wife  of  the 
host  of  the  inn  walked  with  the  girl's  hand  clasped  in 
hers,  and,  entering  the  square,  she  drew  Walda  to  the 
place  where  the  school-master  stood. 

After  the  manner  of  the  men  of  Zanah,  Gerson 
Brandt  made  no  sign  until  Walda  had  spoken  to  him. 

"Thou  wert  missed  at  prayers,  Gerson  Brandt,"  she 
said,  "and  because  I  asked  thee  to  do  a  service  for  me. 
Thou  hast  talked  about  my  father  to  the  stranger?" 

The  school-master  nodded  his  head. 

"It  hath  been  shown  to  me  that  I  was  selfish  in 
begging  thee  to  stay  in  Zanah,"  Walda  said,  address- 

39 


W  A  L  D  A 

ing  Everett.     "Thou  wilt  forgive  a  girl  who  hath  not 
yet  subdued  her  soul?" 

In  her  presence  Everett  felt  abashed.  He  saw  in 
her  a  mysterious  mingling  of  the  child,  the  woman, 
and  the  prophetess.  As  she  waited  for  him  to  answer 
her,  he  had  a  chance  to  notice  the  noble  outlines  of 
her  face  and  the  perfect  poise  of  her  lithe  body. 

"  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  me,"  he  said.  "  I 
assure  you  I  am  glad  to  stay  in  Zanah."  As  he  spoke 
the  rare  beauty  of  the  girl  again  cast  a  spell  over  him, 
and  he  meant  what  he  said.  Mother  Werther  put  her 
arm  about  Walda's  waist  and  would  have  drawn  her 
inside  the  door  of  the  inn  had  not  Everett  stopped 
them. 

"One  moment,"  he  said.  "There  is  a  condition 
that  I  should  like  to  make.  Your  father  needs  faith 
ful  nursing — the  watchfulness  that  only  love  can  give 
him.  If  you  will  take  care  of  him  I  shall  feel  that  I 
have  the  right  help  and  that  I  shall  not  have  cause 
to  regret  that  I  remained  in  Zanah." 

"That  is  a  matter  thou  shouldst  put  before  the  Herr 
Doktor,"  said  Mother  Werther.  "Brother  Schneider 
is  coming  now;  speak  to  him." 

"Is  it  not  customary  for  members  of  families  here 
in  the  colony  to  nurse  one  another?"  Everett  asked 
the  school-master. 

"Not  unless  they  are  especially  appointed  to  the 
task,"  answered  Gerson  Brandt. 

40 


W  A  L  D  A 

Adolph  Schneider  had  reached  the  inn.  He  greeted 
Everett  with  a  show  of  cordiality,  and,  taking  pos 
session  of  the  big  arm-chair,  lighted  his  pipe.  He 
began  to  talk  of  Wilhelm  Kellar's  illness,  and  to  la 
ment  the  loss  of  the  elder's  aid  in  carrying  on  the 
business  of  the  colony.  Then  Everett  found  his 
chance  to  request  Walda's  attendance  at  the  bedside 
of  her  father. 

"The  Untersuchung  is  at  hand,"  said  the  Herr  Dok- 
tor,  "and  it  is  the  time  for  prayer  and  meditation. 
Thou  knowest  that  we  believe  she  will  be  made  the 
instrument  of  the  Lord,  and  therefore  she  should  live 
much  alone  until  the  hour  when  she  shall  speak  with 
a  new  tongue." 

Adolph  Schneider  looked  at  Everett  suspiciously. 
The  man  of  the  world  showed  that  he  could  outwit 
the  man  of  Zanah.  With  an  assumption  of  indiffer 
ence  Everett  replied: 

"Of  course  it  makes  little  difference  to  me.  I 
shall  do  the  best  I  can  to  help  Wilhelm  Kellar  back  to 
health,  but  if  you  send  his  daughter  to  nurse  him  he 
is  likely  to  recover  twice  as  rapidly  as  he  would  other 
wise." 

He  resumed  his  promenade  on  the  porch.  As  he 
walked  back  and  forth  the  president  of  the  colony 
saw  that  he  was  a  man  of  magnificent  physique,  erect 
and  athletic.  With  some  misgiving  he  noticed  that 
the  stranger  had  more  than  the  ordinary  share  of 


W  A  L  D  A 

physical  beauty,  and  that  he  had  the  indefinable  air 
which  belongs  to  those  accustomed  to  command  the 
best  the  world  has  to  give. 

"It  is  important  that  Wilhelm  Kellar  should  be 
well  as  soon  as  it  is  God's  will  to  restore  him,"  said 
Adolph  Schneider.  "His  sickness  is  a  stroke  of  Prov 
idence  we  may  not  question.  Still,  it  behooveth  us  to 
aid  in  his  speedy  recovery.  Walda  Kellar  shall  be 
sent  to  nurse  her  father." 

Everett  put  his  hands  behind  him  and  turned  his 
back  as  if  he  had  not  heard.  When  the  Herr  Doktor 
repeated  his  decision  the  man  of  the  world  said,  in  a 
quiet  tone: 

"Very  well.  I  shall  expect  to  see  the  new  nurse  in 
the  sick-room  to-morrow." 


V 


WHEN  Everett  went  to  see  his  patient  the  next 
morning  he  had  a  new  interest  in  the  case. 
Mother  Kaufmann  met  him  at  the  door  and  took 
him  into  the  queer  room  under  the  eaves  where,  in  his 
little  alcove,  lay  Wilhelm  Kellar.  The  room  was  ex 
quisitely  neat.  The  little,  hinged  window  at  the  foot 
of  the  sick  man's  bed  was  open,  and  it  let  in  the  fra 
grance  wafted  from  the  garden. 

Everett  looked  around  for  Walda,  but  she  was  not 
in  the  room.  He  was  too  wise  to  make  any  inquiry 
for  her.  He  went  to  the  bedside,  and  while  Mother 
Kaufmann  leaned  upon  the  foot-board  he  felt  the 
pulse  of  the  sick  man.  Wilhelm  Kellar  cast  a  ques 
tioning  look  at  the  physician. 

"You  are  better,"  Everett  said,  in  German.  "You 
will  be  out  in  a  week  or  two  if  nothing  unforeseen 
happens." 

He  stepped  out  of  the  alcove  to  prepare  his  medi 
cines  in  the  larger  apartment.  "Are  you  the  nurse?" 
he  inquired  of  the  woman. 

"The  Herr  Doktor  told  me  to  help  Walda  Kellar, 
43 


W  A  L  D  A 

who  will  come  after  her  hour  of  prayer,"  Mother  Kauf- 
mann  replied. 

Everett  left  a  few  directions,  and  said  he  would  call 
again.  He  returned  at  sundown.  The  school-master 
was  out  on  the  little  porch  poring  over  a  yellow-paged 
book.  He  let  Everett  pass  him  without  salutation. 
The  younger  man  hastened  up  the  narrow  stairs. 
The  sick-room  appeared  quite  changed  when  he  en 
tered  it.  Flowers  were  arranged  in  a  great  blue  bowl 
on  the  table.  In  a  clumsy-looking  cage  that  hung 
by  the  window  a  chaffinch  fluttered  back  and  forth. 
Plants  bloomed  in  the  bow- window  at  which  sat  Wai- 
da  Kellar.  The  girl's  long,  slender  hands  were  busy 
with  her  knitting.  The  folds  of  her  blue  gown  swept 
the  sanded  floor.  The  kerchief  folded  on  her  breast 
was  not  whiter  than  her  neck.  One  of  her  braids  fell 
over  her  bosom.  She  did  not  hear  Everett,  as  she  was 
looking  out  upon  the  western  bluffs  even  while  her 
hands  kept  the  needles  flying.  He  stepped  into  the 
room.  Walda  rose  and,  putting  her  finger  on  her 
lips,  said: 

"My  father  sleepeth."  In  rising  she  dropped  her 
ball  of  yarn.  Everett  picked  it  up,  and,  slowly  wind 
ing  it,  advanced  until  he  was  very  close  to  her.  As  he 
put  the  ball  in  her  hand  their  fingers  touched,  but  the 
prophetess  of  Zanah  appeared  unconscious  of  the  con 
tact.  Motioning  him  to  a  chair  she  again  took  her 
place  at  the  window.  There  was  a  long  silence,  during 

44 


W  A  L  D  A 

which  her  knitting-needles  flashed  back  and  forth. 
The  girl  showed  no  embarrassment ;  indeed,  she  seem 
ed  to  have  forgotten  him.  In  Zanah  small  talk  was 
unknown.  Walda  Kellar,  who  was  to  be  inspired  of 
the  Lord,  had  been  taught  to  speak  only  when  she 
had  something  to  say. 

Everett  suddenly  found  himself  dumb.  He  sat  op 
posite  Walda,  and  was  as  uneasy  as  a  school-boy  who 
has  not  the  courage  to  bestow  the  red  apple  in  his 
pocket  upon  his  pretty  neighbor  across  the  aisle.  As 
the  minutes  went  by  he  began  to  feel  her  presence 
restful.  She  sat  immovable  except  for  her  untiring 
hands.  Once  or  twice  she  raised  her  calm  eyes  and 
caught  the  stranger's  gaze  resting  on  her.  She  ap 
peared  not  to  notice  it,  and  continued  her  knitting. 
At  last  the  silence  became  unendurable,  and  Everett 
said: 

"It  will  be  a  great  help  to  me  to  have  you  here  to 
nurse  your  father."  The  girl  looked  up  and  did  not 
answer. 

"Much  depends  upon  you,"  he  continued.  "It  is 
only  with  your  aid  that  I  can  do  my  best." 

Walda  Kellar  again  raised  her  eyes.  Then,  in  her 
soft,  deep  voice,  she  said: 

"The  Lord  hath  sent  thee  to  Zanah.  Thou  shalt 
have  all  my  help.  Thou  hast  already  won  my  grati 
tude." 

Again  a  silence  fell.  Everett  leaned  back  in  the 
45 


W  A  L  D  A 

splint-bottomed  chair  and  resolved  to  make  the  most 
of  his  opportunities  of  being  alone  with  the  prophetess. 
Upon  his  perch  the  chaffinch  looked  out  through  the 
bars  at  the  quiet  room. 

Outside  the  crimson  sky  was  turning  to  purple,  the 
fields  had  become  a  tender  brown,  and  the  bluffs  made 
a  dark  line  to  the  west.  Everett,  who  gazed  at  the 
distant  hills,  compared  the  surging  world  to  which  he 
belonged  with  the  peaceful  colony  of  Zanah,  the 
dwelling-place  of  Walda  Kellar.  The  contrast  be 
tween  his  own  life  and  that  of  the  strange  girl  im 
pressed  itself  upon  him.  Now  and  then  he  brought 
his  glance  back  from  the  far  bluffs  to  look  at  the  fair 
woman  who  was  oblivious  of  his  presence. 

The  chaffinch  chirped  his  drowsy  notes,  and  Walda 
Kellar,  looking  up  at  the  bird,  said: 

"What  disturbeth  thee,  Piepmatz?" 

The  bird  turned  his  restless  head  back  and  forth, 
and  Everett  imagined  that  the  chaffinch  might  object 
to  his  presence. 

"  Is  that  your  bird?"  he  asked,  relieved  at  even  the 
paltriest  excuse  for  again  starting  a  conversation. 

Walda  stopped  her  knitting  and,  smiling,  said: 

"  Piepmatz  is  my  licbcJicn;  he  hath  a  voice  as  clear 
as  that  of  a  lark.  He  can  whistle  tunes;  he  knows  a 
bar  of  the  doxology." 

Everett  went  to  the  cage  and  whistled  softly.  The 
bird  chirped  his  silvery  note,  and,  thus  encouraged, 

46 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  man  whistled  the  strain  of  a  love-song.  The  bird 
imitated  three  notes. 

"That  is  a  noble  hymn  thou  art  whistling,"  said 
Walda  Kellar.  "I  have  heard  that  there  is  wonder 
ful  music  out  there  in  the  world,  and  that  they  play 
on  strange  instruments." 

"And  have  you  never  heard  an  organ  or  a  violin?" 
asked  Everett. 

Walda  Kellar  shook  her  head. 

"And  is  even  the  piano  barred  out  of  Zanah?" 

"Zanah  permits  no  musical  instrument.  Gerson 
Brandt  keepeth  yet  a  flute  that  he  brought  with  him 
from  the  world,  but  it  is  always  silent  here." 

"Perhaps  you  will  let  me  sing  you  the  tune  you 
seemed  to  like?"  said  Everett.  "Some  day  when  I 
am  not  afraid  of  disturbing  your  father  you  shall  hear 
it  all." 

Wilhelm  Kellar  stirred  in  his  bed;  Walda  was  at  his 
side  in  a  moment.  Everett  followed  her.  Wilhelm 
Kellar  would  have  spoken,  but  his  tongue  still  refused 
to  do  his  bidding.  While  he  was  looking  up  at  his 
daughter  and  the  physician,  Mother  Kaufmann  bus 
tled  in. 

"How  comes  it  that  thou  art  here  alone  with  the 
stranger?"  she  asked,  casting  an  ugly  look  upon  Walda. 

"  I  am  here  to  serve  my  father,"  said  the  girl,  with 
a  sweet  dignity.  "  Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  Herr 
Doktor  hath  assigned  me  here?" 

47 


W  A  L  D  A 

"He  is  foolish,"  snapped  Mother  Kaufmann. 

"What  art  thou  saying,  woman?"  asked  the  school 
master,  who  had  just  passed  through  the  doorway. 
"  Walda  is  in  her  father's  care  and  in  my  care.  It  is 
not  thy  concern  to  ask  questions." 

The  woman  scowled  and  drew  her  thin  lips  tightly 
over  her  hideous  teeth. 

"And  thou  art  a  second  father  to  Walda,  I  sup 
pose?"  she  sneered. 

"Yea,  and  more,"  said  the  school-master. 

"Gerson  Brandt  hath  spoken  the  truth.  He  is 
more  than  father  to  me  in  that  he  is  my  teacher  and 
my  safe  counsellor,"  said  Walda,  stepping  back  tow 
ards  him. 

The  school-master's  pale  face  flushed. 

"Thou  art  always  my  sacred  charge  for  whom  I 
pray,"  said  Gerson  Brandt,  in  a  soft  voice.  "For 
thee  and  for  thy  happiness  I  would  do  all  things  in 
my  power."  There  was  that  in  his  face  which  told  the 
man  of  the  world  all  emotion  had  not  died  in  the  heart 
beating  beneath  the  queer  coat  of  the  school-master. 

"Ah,  and  I  pray  for  thee  every  night  when  I  ask  a 
blessing  for  my  father,"  spoke  Walda.  "I  entreat 
wisdom  and  strength  for  thee." 

Gerson  Brandt  looked  into  her  eyes  and  a  sudden 
light  illumined  his  face. 

"Thou  needest  much  of  divine  aid  for  thy  work 
with  little  children,"  the  girl  added. 

48 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Yea,  yea,"  the  school-master  said,  as  he  turned 
away. 

"Yea,  yea,  didst  thou  say?"  repeated  the  shrill 
voice  of  Mother  Kaufmann.  "Just  remember  that 
thy  conversation  should  be  yea,  yea  and  nay,  nay." 

Ignoring  the  elder  woman,  Everett  gave  a  few  di 
rections  to  Walda.  Then  he  passed  out  into  the 
darkening  evening. 


VI 


THERE  was  labor  for  all  in  Zanah.  Early  in  the 
morning  the  villagers  took  their  hasty  breakfasts 
in  the  kitchens  and  then  went  out  to  work  in  the  mills 
and  fields.  The  children  over  six  years  of  age  were 
gathered  into  the  school-houses,  the  boys  being  ac 
corded  more  privileges  in  the  way  of  learning  than  the 
girls,  who  were  not  permitted  to  enjoy  the  instructions 
of  Gerson  Brandt.  The  future  "mothers"  of  the  col 
ony  were  kept  many  hours  in  a  rambling  building, 
where  they  were  taught  all  the  domestic  arts,  with 
but  now  and  then  a  lesson  from  the  books  borrowed 
from  the  school-master.  In  the  very  centre  of  the 
village  stood  the  kinderhaus,  where  the  babes  of  the 
colony  were  tended  during  the  working-hours  of  their 
mothers.  A  wide  porch  surrounded  the  kinderhaus 
on  four  sides,  and  a  tangled  garden  of  bloom  divided 
it  from  the  street.  In  a  vine-covered  arbor,  set 
among  the  flowers,  Walda  Kellar  was  accustomed  to 
spend  her  hours  of  meditation  during  her  last  month 
before  the  Untcrsnchung.  It  was  not  long  before  Ev 
erett  discovered  this  fact;  and  when  Mother  Kauf- 
mann  relieved  the  girl  in  the  sick-room  he  often  made 


W  A  L  D  A 

excuse  to  speak  to  her  as  she  went  through  the  little 
wicket  gate.  Outside  the  sick-room,  however,  she 
was  always  the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  aloof  in  manner 
and  difficult  to  reach  by  word. 

One  day  as  he  wandered  down  the  street,  after 
having  assured  himself  that  Walda  was  poring  over  a 
book  in  the  little  arbor,  he  happened  to  meet  Adolph 
Schneider.  Since  the  day  when  the  stranger  had 
shown  a  willingness  to  pay  a  generous  price  for  any 
book  he  might  wish  to  buy  from  the  colony,  the  Herr 
Doktor  had  treated  him  with  a  perceptible  deference. 
Adolph  Schneider  stopped  now,  and,  leaning  on  his 
cane,  said: 

"  If  thou  hast  a  mind  to  buy  that  Bible  shown  thee 
by  Gerson  Brandt,  the  people  of  Zanah  are  willing  to 
sell  it  to  thee.  Many  times  have  I  meant  to  speak  to 
thee  concerning  the  barter,  but  thou  knowest  that  the 
sickness  of  Wilhelm  Kellar  hath  interfered  with  all 
the  business  of  the  colony." 

Everett  waited  half  a  moment  before  he  replied. 
He  read  in  the  face  of  the  Herr  Doktor  craftiness  and 
greed,  and  he  knew  he  must  use  tact  if  he  would 
spare  Gerson  Brandt  the  pang  of  parting  with  his 
precious  book. 

"The  Bible  is  not  what  I  want,"  he  said.  "Some 
smaller  book  will  do  as  well  for  me." 

Adolph  Schneider  was  too  shrewd  to  be  easily  put 
off. 


W  A  L  D  A 

"We  have  found  that  there  is  no  writing  for  sale 
in  Zanah.  Of  all  our  books  there  is  none  that  we 
can  part  with  except  the  Bible.  Zanah  is  loath  to 
part  with  that,  but  the  colony  hath  need  of  money." 

Again  Everett  said  that  he  did  not  wish  to  make 
the  purchase. 

Adolph  Schneider  was  not  to  be  balked.  "I  will 
send  to  the  school-master  for  the  book,"  he  said,  "and 
thou  shalt  examine  it  at  thy  leisure.  I  will  have  it 
taken  to  the  inn." 

Everett  walked  away  towards  one  of  the  large  vine 
yards,  which  was  situated  on  a  sunny  slope  of  a  hill 
just  beyond  the  village.  Here  men  and  women  were 
silently  picking  the  early  grapes.  Elders  and  village 
mothers  kept  strict  watch  of  the  younger  members  of 
the  colony.  No  one  appeared  to  take  any  notice  of 
the  stranger,  and  he  went  over  to  a  place  where  a  pile 
of  stones  offered  him  a  seat.  It  was  a  glorious  sum 
mer  day  with  a  premature  promise  of  the  autumn  in 
its  golden  haziness.  Along  the  edges  of  the  fences 
stalks  of  golden-rod  here  and  there  stood  out  among 
the  tall  grasses.  The  fields  stretched  away  in  patches 
of  brown  and  green  and  yellow.  He  felt  sure  that 
there  was  no  more  tranquil  spot  in  all  the  earth.  As 
the  quiet  colonists  worked  among  the  vines,  Everett 
asked  himself  if  they  were  really  reconciled  to  the 
barrenness  of  their  lives.  The  world,  with  its  delights, 
its  pains,  its  passions,  was  barred  out,  but  he  won- 

52 


W  A  L  D  A 

dered  whether  the  men  and  women  found  it  possible 
to  close  their  hearts  to  all  human  emotion.  With 
heads  bowed  low  the  women  kept  their  faithful  hands 
busy,  each  doing  the  work  allotted  to  her.  Apparent 
ly  the  chagrins  of  coquetry,  the  pangs  of  aspiration, 
the  restlessness  of  unfulfilled  ambition  did  not  touch 
them;  yet,  now  and  then,  he  caught  the  girls  casting 
sly  glances  at  the  youths  who  labored  near  them. 

When  the  afternoon  had  advanced  until  the  long 
shadows  began  to  fall  upon  the  fields,  Mother  Werther 
appeared,  carrying  two  steaming  tin  pails  fastened  to 
a  bar  that  she  balanced  deftly.  Her  appearance  was 
the  signal  for  every  one  to  stop  work.  She  put  the 
pails  down  in  an  open  space,  and,  smiling  kindly  on 
men  and  maids  alike,  said: 

"Every  man  and  woman  here  will  be  glad  of  a  cup 
of  coffee,  I  am  sure,  and  this  to-day  is  stronger  than 
any  I  have  boiled  for  many  a  week.  It  is  from  the 
Herr  Doktor's  own  bag." 

There  was  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye,  and  Everett 
was  sure  he  saw  her  wink  at  one  of  the  village  "moth 
ers  "  who  leaned  against  a  near  post  that  supported  a 
well-stripped  vine. 

"Didst  thou  steal  from  Brother  Schneider's  store?" 
inquired  a  fat  old  man  who  was  leisurely  sorting  the 
great  bunches  of  grapes.  "Fie,  fie,  Sister  Werther! 
I  thought  thou  couldst  be  trusted,  even  though  thou 
art  still  in  the  lowest  grade  of  Zanah's  colonists." 

53 


W  A  L  D  A 

Several  of  the  older  women  laughed,  and  Mother 
Werther  made  haste  to  reply: 

"It  was  right  that  I  should  take  the  coffee,  since 
my  stock  was  gone.  Surely  it  should  not  be  better 
than  that  we  all  drink,  for  here  in  Zanah  no  one  is  en 
titled  to  more  than  another." 

One  or  two  of  the  men  sneered  perceptibly. 

"Hasten  to  serve  us,"  urged  an  impatient  girl. 

"There  are  no  cups,"  said  Joseph  Hoff,  who  had 
drawn  near  to  where  Frieda  Bergen  stood. 

"Ach!  Where  is  that  boy  Hans  Peter?"  asked 
Mother  Werther.  "He  was  to  follow  in  my  very  foot 
steps."  She  looked  back  across  the  field,  and  in  the 
distance  the  form  of  the  simple  one  appeared.  On  his 
head  Hans  Peter  carried  an  immense  basket.  He 
walked  slowly  in  his  usual  listless  way,  and  appeared 
unmindful  of  the  numerous  urgent  calls  to  him. 
When  he  finally  reached  Mother  Werther  he  put  the 
basket,  which  was  heaped  high  with  tin  cups,  down 
upon  the  ground,  and  stood  staring  vacantly  ahead 
of  him. 

"Thou  art  tardy,  foolish  one,"  said  a  man  who 
scowled  down  upon  the  boy  and  took  the-  topmost 
cup,  which  he  dipped  into  one  of  the  buckets  of  coffee. 
Hans  Peter  made  no  reply. 

"Where  is  Gerson  Brandt?"  asked  the  overseer,  who 
had  been  too  closely  engaged  in  examining  some  of  the 
vines  to  pay  attention  to  anything  that  was  going  on 

54 


W  A  L  D  A 

around  him.  "I  need  his  advice,  and  he  and  all  his 
troop  of  boys  should  have  been  here  a  quarter-hour 
ago." 

"The  Herr  Doktor  hath  kept  him  in  the  school- 
house.  They  are  speaking  together,"  explained  the 
village  fool. 

"Go  tell  him  that  the  work  cannot  go  on  until  he 
comes,"  said  the  overseer. 

Hans  Peter  turned  and  went  back  with  lagging 
steps.  The  vineyard  workers  paid  little  attention  to 
him,  however,  for  they  were  all  intent  upon  helping 
themselves  to  Mother  Werther's  clear  coffee.  Joseph 
Hoff  dipped  a  cup  into  one  of  the  buckets.  Calling 
to  Everett,  he  said: 

"Wilt  thou  not  join  the  men  of  Zanah  in  drinking 
good  luck  to  the  wine-presses?" 

Everett  rose  from  his  seat  to  take  the  proffered  cup. 
He  saw  that  Joseph  Hoff  managed  to  pass  by  where 
Frieda  Bergen  sat  upon  the  ground.  They  spoke  a 
word  to  each  other,  but  no  one  noticed  them.  Under 
the  cheering  influence  of  the  coffee,  more  talking  was 
permitted  than  the  stranger  in  Zanah  had  heard  at 
any  other  time  since  he  came  to  the  colony.  Now 
and  then  the  elder  men  and  women  exchanged  a  word. 
The  young  girls  laughed  in  low  tones,  and  there  was 
even  something  like  playfulness  among  the  youths, 
some  of  whom  wrestled,  and  some  of  whom  cuffed  one 
another  in  rough  play. 

55 


W  A  L  D  A 

"The  quarter -hour  is  past,"  said  the  overseer, 
and  all  the  cups  were  thrown  upon  the  ground  in  a 
pile,  while  men  and  women,  yoiiths  and  maidens, 
turned  again  to  their  work.  Everett  had  half  a  mind 
to  ask  for  a  knife  with  which  to  cut  the  great  clusters 
of  heavy  fruit  from  the  vines.  He  felt  that  he  would 
know  how  to  do  it  quite  as  expertly  as  the  men  whom 
he  watched;  but  while  he  was  hesitating  about  taking 
upon  himself  anything  that  was  like  real  work  his 
attention  was  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  Hans 
Peter,  accompanied  by  the  school-master,  who  was  fol 
lowed  by  his  pupils.  As  the  school-master  came  near, 
Everett  saw  that  he  had  a  troubled  look. 

"What  hath  detained  thee,  Brother  Brandt?"  in 
quired  the  overseer,  who  was  superintending  the  load 
ing  of  the  grapes  upon  heavy  wagons. 

"I  had  mislaid  a  book,"  the  school-master  said, 
simply.  "I  spent  half  an  hour  searching  for  it." 

"Thou  wert  ever  absent  in  thy  mind,"  said  Mother 
Werther,  with  a  laugh.  "Thou  wilt  find  it  in  some 
odd  place  where  it  ought  not  to  be." 

"  I  was  sure  I  put  it  safely  in  my  chest  of  drawers," 
said  the  school -master.  "I  recall  the  very  day  on 
which  I  laid  it  in  the  topmost  place." 

"Now  recall  the  day  thou  didst  take  it  from  the 
drawer,"  said  the  overseer. 

"  Nay,  I  know  it  hath  lain  there  undisturbed  by  my 
hand,"  said  Gerson  Brandt. 

56 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Was  it  a  book  of  much  worth?"  inquired  Mother 
Werther. 

"Yea,  one  most  precious  to  me — the  Bible  that  I 
have  been  illuminating  these  many  months." 

"The  Bible  that  the  stranger  coveted?"  inquired 
the  overseer,  pointing  towards  Everett,  who  stood 
by,  listening  to  the  conversation. 

The  school-master  nodded. 

It  was  not  five  minutes  before  every  one  working  in 
the  vineyard  knew  that  Gerson  Brandt  had  lost  his 
Bible,  and  there  were  some,  Everett  noticed,  among 
both  men  and  women,  who  muttered  to  one  another 
as  if  they  accused  the  school-master  of  some  sinister 
design  concerning  the  book  the  colony  claimed.  Ev 
erett  walked  up  and  down  among  the  rows  of  vines, 
until  he  noticed  that  Adolph  Schneider  had  come  to 
the  place  where  Gerson  Brandt  had  busied  himself. 
He  could  see  that  the  Herr  Doktor  spoke  emphatically 
and  waved  his  cane,  and  that  the  school-master  re 
plied  with  quiet  dignity. 

"The  Bible  that  thou  wouldst  buy  hath  disap 
peared  in  a  strange  manner,"  said  Adolph  Schnei 
der,  addressing  Everett.  "It  will  be  found  in  the 
space  of  a  day  or  two,  for  we  have  no  thieves  in 
Zanah.  The  overseer  and  I  both  believe  Brother 
Brandt  hath  forgotten  where  he  put  it,  and  that 
he  will  find  it  when  he  maketh  a  more  thorough 
search." 

57 


W  A  L  D  A 

There  was  something  like  insinuation  in  his  tone, 
and  Gerson  Brandt's  face  flushed. 

"The  book  hath  been  taken  from  my  room,"  he 
said.  "It  is  where  I  cannot  find  it." 

"Thou  speakest  as  if  thou  wert  brother  to  the  sim 
ple  one,"  said  Herr  Schneider. 

"I  speak  the  truth,"  said  Gerson  Brandt. 

"Yea,  he  telleth  the  truth,"  declared  Hans  Peter, 
pulling  himself  up  on  his  knees  and  looking  at  the 
Herr  Doktor. 

"The  truth!  What  dost  thou  know  about  it— 
thou  of  little  mind  and  less  judgment?"  said  Adolph 
Schneider. 

"I  may  know  much,  and  I  may  know  little,"  said 
Hans  Peter,  swaying  himself  back  and  forth  on  his 
knees. 

"Surely  thou  hast  not  taken  my  Bible?"  said  the 
school-master,  with  a  look  of  mingled  hope  and  fear 
on  his  face. 

"Nay,  I  have  not  said  that  I  took  it,"  replied  the 
fool. 

"Yet  thou  hast  knowledge  of  it,  Hans  Peter?"  asked 
Gerson  Brandt,  his  eyes  scanning  the  dull  face  of  the 
simple  one. 

"  It  is  said  I  have  knowledge  of  naught,"  said 
Hans  Peter,  who  rose  to  his  feet  and,  folding  his  arms 
across  his  ragged,  blue  blouse,  confronted  the  school 
master  and  the  Herr  Doktor  with  fearless  eyes. 

58 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Why  bandy  words  with  a  fool?"  said  the  over 
seer.  "There  is  much  to  be  done." 

The  men  and  women  of  Zanah  returned  to  their 
tasks.  Some  of  the  men  piled  the  grapes  into  large 
tubs,  which  were  lifted  on  wagons  drawn  by  fat,  sleek 
horses.  The  women,  scattered  among  the  vines,  in 
dustriously  cut  off  the  bunches  of  luscious  fruit,  and 
the  boys  who  had  accompanied  Gerson  Brandt  into 
the  vineyard  were  sent  back  and  forth,  bearing  pails 
and  baskets  on  their  heads.  Mother  Werther  gave 
Hans  Peter  the  tin  cups  to  carry  back  to  the  village, 
and  he  went  away  unnoticed  except  by  Everett,  who 
had  the  feeling  that  the  simple  one  might  be  able  to 
tell  what  had  become  of  Gerson  Brandt's  treasured 
volume. 

The  close  of  the  summer  day  began  to  be  noticed. 
The  sun  sank  behind  the  bluffs.  Everett  idly  watch 
ed  the  workers  in  the  vineyard  prepare  to  go  home. 
The  women  were  first  to  leave  their  tasks,  and,  with 
Mother  Werther  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  they 
walked  two  and  two  towards  the  road.  As  they 
walked  they  sang  a  dismal  strain.  The  wagons 
creaked  as  the  wheels  sank  deeply  into  the  soil,  and 
marching  beside  them  went  the  men,  carrying  upon 
their  shoulders  scythes  and  rakes,  which  they  had 
used  in  an  adjoining  hay-field.  The  vineyard  toilers 
wound  down  the  hill-side.  All  had  apparently  for 
gotten  Everett,  who  had  found  a  place  where  he 

59 


W  A  L  D  A 

could  lie  upon  the  ground  with  his  head  pillowed 
upon  a  smooth  rock.  The  peace  and  quiet  of  the 
evening  soothed  him,  and  again,  for  the  hundredth 
time  in  the  day,  he  thought  of  Walda  Kellar.  As  if 
his  thoughts  were  suggested  by  her  proximity,  he  saw, 
coming  from  the  hay-field,  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
She  was  leading  a  little  child  by  the  hand,  and  behind 
her  silently  followed  several  of  the  "mothers"  of  the 
colony.  The  women  carried  upon  their  heads  great 
bundles  of  hay,  while  back  of  them  moved  the  har 
vest  wagons,  piled  high  with  heavy  loads  taken  from 
the  great  stacks  that  dotted  the  broad  fields.  Walda 
appeared  not  to  notice  the  stranger,  who  lay  quietly 
watching  her.  She  was  talking  in  a  low,  soothing 
tone  to  the  child,  which  apparently  had  been  crying 
for  its  mother.  When  Walda  was  within  a  few  feet  of 
him,  Everett  quickly  rose,  but  he  hesitated  to  ad 
dress  her.  With  uncovered  head,  he  waited  until  she 
might  see  him.  When  she  was  very  near  him  she 
raised  her  eyes  and  started,  as  if  surprised  to  find  the 
stranger  in  the  vineyard.  She  would  have  passed  on, 
but  he  detained  her  by  seizing  upon  the  pretext  that 
she  must  be  interested  in  hearing  about  her  father, 
whom  he  had  seen  after  she  left  the  sick-room.  He 
said: 

"Miss  Kellar,  your  father  is  fast  regaining  strength. 
To-day  I  find  that  he  will  soon  be  able  to  leave  his 
bed." 

60 


W  A  L  D  A 

The  girl  stopped,  and,  looking  at  him,  answered: 

"Thou  hast  my  prayers  and  my  thanks,  thou 
stranger  in  Zanah." 

"  If  I  have  done  anything  to  deserve  your  thanks, 
I  am  grateful,  Miss  Kellar." 

The  women  had  stopped  at  a  little  distance  from 
them,  and  he  could  see  that  they  were  muttering 
something  among  themselves.  Presently  one  of 
them  spoke: 

"Sir,  thou  art  addressing  the  prophetess  of  Zanah 
with  the  vain  title  used  in  the  world  outside.  If  thou 
must  speak  to  her,  thou  shouldst  call  her  Walda 
Kellar." 

Everett  was  embarrassed.  He  stood  gazing  at  the 
girl,  who  smiled  upon  him  quite  naturally. 

"Yea,  thou  shouldst  call  me  Walda,"  she  said. 
"Thou  knowest  that  in  the  Bible  the  men  and  women 
addressed  one  another  by  their  simple  names." 

"Then,  if  I  am  to  follow  the  custom  of  Zanah,  you 
must  call  me  not  stranger,  but  Stephen,'"'  he  said. 
And  she  answered: 

"Yea,  Stephen,  already  thou  seemest  scarcely  a 
stranger." 

He  felt  a  sudden  quickening  of  the  pulses  when  the 
girl  spoke  to  him  by  his  given  name,  so  seldom  used, 
for  he  was  little  burdened  by  kinsmen  and  the  inti 
macies  of  ordinary  companionship.  Stephen  Everett 
had  always  been  a  man  who  forbade  those  with  whom 

61 


W  A  L  D  A 

he  came  in  contact  to  take  liberties  with  him,  yet  he 
had  the  quiet  friendliness  that  kept  for  him  the  con 
stancy  and  devotion  of  all  who  knew  him.  His  name, 
spoken  by  the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  had,  however,  a 
sound  that  suddenly  glorified  it.  As  he  stood  there 
he  could  think  of  nothing  to  say,  and  she  passed  on, 
leaving  him  to  look  after  her,  and  to  feel  in  a  new  and 
peculiar  manner  that  the  world  had  changed  for  him. 
He  saw  that  she  walked  with  a  firm  step  and  a  light 
freedom  of  movement  that  gave  her  a  rare  grace. 
She  moved  slowly,  so  that  the  little  child  could  keep 
pace  with  her,  and  he  was  grateful  for  the  chance 
duty  that  gave  him  a  longer  glimpse  of  her.  She 
passed  through  the  wooden  gate  which  cut  off  the 
vineyard.  Presently  he  saw  her  disappear  among  the 
trees  at  the  end  of  the  village  street,  and  a  sense  of 
loneliness  swept  over  him.  He  who  had  always  been 
glad  of  the  opportunity  to  enjoy  his  own  society  felt 
something  of  the  homesickness  of  the  soul. 


VII 


GERSON  BRANDT  sat  alone  in  his  school-room. 
His  elbows  were  propped  on  the  worn  lid  of  his 
black,  oaken  desk,  and  his  chin  was  supported  in  the 
palms  of  his  hands.  His  face  had  a  worried  look. 
The  lines  about  his  mouth  had  deepened  within  the 
last  few  days,  and  his  heavy  brows  were  drawn  to 
gether.  He  was  wondering  what  could  have  hap 
pened  to  the  precious  Bible.  Now  that  he  had  be 
come  accustomed  to  the  changes  brought  about  in 
the  routine  of  his  daily  life  by  the  illness  of  Wil- 
helm  Kellar,  he  sorely  missed  the  pleasant  task  of 
each  day  making  a  letter  or  two  upon  the  pages  of 
the  Sacred  Word.  It  had  been  his  joy  and  his  rec 
reation,  after  the  long  school  sessions,  to  turn  to 
his  pens  and  his  colored  inks.  Line  by  line  he  had 
wrought  the  delicate  traceries  with  many  a  thought 
of  Walda  and  many  a  prayer  for  her  well-being.  He 
had  dwelt  so  long  in  the  faith  that  inspired  Zanah 
that  he  had  felt  in  the  hope  of  her  inspiration  a  pe 
culiar  satisfaction  and  contentment.  He  was  a  poet 
and  a  dreamer,  so  he  found  it  not  hard  to  believe 
that  this  girl  of  Zanah  would  be  given  a  special 

63 


W  A  L  D  A 

power  not  vouchsafed  to  many  souls  that  come  into 
the  great  domain  of  sin. 

It  was  a  week  since  the  loss  of  the  Bible  had  been 
discovered.  It  was  apparent  to  him,  whose  nature 
was  sensitive  to  every  suggestion,  that  the  people  of 
Zanah  for  some  reason  distrusted  him,  and  imputed 
blame  to  him  because  of  the  mysterious  disappear 
ance  of  the  volume  that  might  have  brought  the 
colony  the  price  of  many  rolls  of  flannel  and  many 
bottles  of  wine.  The  Herr  Doktor  that  very  day 
had  been  to  see  him  about  devising  some  means  by 
which  more  effective  search  could  be  made  for  the 
Bible.  Notwithstanding  Wilhelm  Kellar's  illness,  the 
room  up-stairs  had  been  thoroughly  searched.  With 
Schneider  standing  by,  he  had  been  obliged  to  sub 
mit  to  the  humiliation  of  unlocking  each  drawer  and 
turning  out  upon  the  floor  all  his  few  personal  pos 
sessions.  From  his  bed  in  the  alcove  Wilhelm  Kel- 
lar  had  anxiously  watched  every  movement,  and  had 
shown  keen  disappointment  when  the  big  volume 
could  not  be  found.  Mother  Werther  had  been  pres 
ent,  and  had  scrutinized  each  article  as  it  was  put 
back  in  its  accustomed  place  in  the  old-fashioned 
chest  of  drawers.  One  thing  alone  she  failed  to  ex 
amine,  and  that  was  his  old  leather  portfolio,  much 
worn  with  long  years  of  constant  use.  In  this  port 
folio  was  concealed  his  one  forbidden  possession — the 
sketch  of  Walda  made  years  before,  when  she  was 

64 


W  A  L  D  A 

scarcely  more  than  a  child.  Zanah  permitted  not  the 
image  of  anything  on  earth  to  be  kept  by  a  faithful 
colonist;  but  he  had  treasured  this,  made  in  a  mo 
ment  of  weakness  and  loneliness.  He  had  eased  his 
conscience  with  the  thought  that  he  had  drawn  not 
the  woman  of  the  future,  but  the  prophetess  who 
would  some  day  guide  his  people. 

Adolph  Schneider  had  gone  on  his  way  but  a  few 
moments  before.  The  school-master  still  felt  the 
sting  of  his  last  words — an  injunction  to  find  the 
Bible  within  the  next  fortnight.  Gerson  Brandt  had 
spent  all  his  unemployed  waking  moments  in  trying 
to  account  for  the  disappearance  of  the  big  book.  He 
felt  sure  that  there  was  no  boy  in  the  village  mis 
chievous  enough  to  steal  it,  and  no  outsider  except 
Everett  had  been  within  the  boundaries  of  Zanah  for 
many  a  week.  Instinctively  he  knew  that  the  colo 
nists  were  judging  him  unkindly,  for  even  in  Zanah 
jealousies  and  rivalries  were  not  unknown.  In  all  his 
years  of  colony  life  he  had  escaped  criticism,  because 
he  had  been  the  one  elder  untouched  by  personal  am 
bition.  His  gentleness  and  sweetness  of  nature  had 
made  even  the  most  selfish  and  disagreeable  person 
his  friend,  for  no  one  in  all  Zanah  had  performed  the 
friendly  services  that  belonged  to  the  record  made  by 
the  school-master  of  the  colony. 

Presently  he  turned  his  face  towards  the  window 
and  looked  out  upon  the  summer  landscape.  The 
«  65 


W  A  L  D  A 

day  seemed  strangely  silent.  The  late  summer  al 
ready  presaged  the  coming  autumn.  The  birds  had 
long  ceased  their  singing.  There  was  not  even  the 
hum  of  a  lazy  insect.  A  sense  of  loneliness  crept  over 
this  man,  accustomed  to  the  peculiar  isolation  of  life 
in  Zanah.  He  half  realized  that  the  loss  of  the  Bible 
meant  to  him,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  cutting  off  of  a 
daily  association  of  thought  that  bound  him  to  Walda. 
His  mind  had  hardly  turned  towards  the  girl  before 
he  heard  her  light  footstep  as  she  crossed  the  thresh 
old.  When  he  saw  her  framed  in  the  doorway  that 
opened  out  on  the  little  porch,  he  felt  foolishly  glad, 
but  although  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  did  not  advance  to 
meet  her. 

"Ah,  Gerson  Brandt,  something  is  troubling  thee," 
said  Walda.  "For  fully  two  minutes  I  have  been 
watching  thee  from  the  porch.  What  is  in  thy  mind 
to  rob  thee  thus  of  peace?" 

"Nay,  Walda,  my  peace  is  not  gone,  I  trust,"  said 
the  school-master;  but  he  paused,  as  if  the  assertion 
made  him  cognizant  that  he  might  rot  be  speaking 
the  whole  truth.  "  I  have  been  thinking  much  about 
the  loss  of  my  Bible." 

"Yea,  that  is  very  strange,"  said  Walda,  standing 
before  his  desk,  and  looking  up  into  his  eyes  with  an 
inquiring  glance.  "I  cannot  understand  what  could 
befall  it." 

"If  it  cannot  be  found,  my  honor  is  touched,"  said 
66 


W  A  L  D  A 

Gerson  Brandt,  and  there  was  something  like  a  quiver 
on  his  sensitive  lips.  "There  are  those  in  Zanah  who 
will  count  it  against  me,  because  I  put  overmuch 
work  upon  the  book  and  grew  to  hold  it  as  my  best 
possession." 

"Nay,  nay,  Gerson  Brandt,  the  people  love  thee, 
and  they  will  remember  the  injunction  that  they  must 
not  judge  one  another." 

Gerson  Brandt  stepped  from  the  high  platform. 
Motioning  towards  a  bench  in  front  of  the  window,  he 
said: 

"Sit  here  near  me,  Walda;  I  would  speak  to  thee 
now  alone,  since  there  may  not  come  another  chance 
before  thy  day  of  inspiration." 

The  girl  took  her  place  on  the  bench  and  Gerson 
Brandt  stood  before  her.  For  a  moment  he  was  silent. 
With  hands  folded  across  his  spare  chest,  and  with 
his  head  bent,  he  gazed  down  upon  the  beautiful  girl. 
He  noticed  a  change  in  her  face.  It  had  lost  some 
thing  of  the  childishness  of  its  expression.  It  had  a 
graver  look.  The  eyes  bespoke  a  seriousness  he 
thought  foretold  the  coming  spiritual  inspiration  for 
which  the  colony  had  waited  so  many  years. 

"  It  is  well,  Walda,  that  thou  hast  reached  this  time 
in  thy  life  without  being  touched  by  worldly  emo 
tions.  Zanah  hath  watched  over  thee  with  a  care 
that  hath  kept  thee  pure  for  thy  consecration  to  the 
Lord's  work." 

67 


WALDA 

"To  Zanah  I  owe  all  my  service,"  said  Walda.  "I 
trust  that  great  things  may  be  revealed  through  me." 

She  spoke  as  if  she  thought  of  herself  from  an  ob 
jective  point  of  view. 

"This  is  an  age  when  men  should  walk  near  God. 
There  are  strange  things  going  on  in  the  great  world, 
and  every  year  Zanah's  safety  is  jeopardized.  Un 
toward  manners  and  customs  are  already  becoming 
known  among  the  young  people.  There  is  in  my 
heart  much  gratitude  that  thou  hast  escaped  the 
temptations  to  fathom  earthly  love." 

"Gerson  Brandt,  is  love  the  greatest  of  all  the 
sins?"  asked  Walda,  looking  up  into  the  face  of  the 
school-master,  who  bestowed  upon  her  a  look  search 
ing  and  withal  tender. 

"  It  is  not  given  to  me  to  judge  what  is  the  greatest 
sin  a  woman  can  commit,"  Gerson  Brandt  answered, 
slowly.  "I  have  heard  that  love  bringeth  pain  and 
sorrow  and  disappointment." 

"Yet  there  are  many  who  do  not  seem  afraid  to 
risk  sorrow  for  love.  Truly  there  must  be  some  com 
pensation  for  it,"  said  Walda. 

"There  is,  there  is,"  replied  the  school-master.  "At 
first  it  intoxicates ;  it  bringeth  fair  dreams,  high  hopes, 
and  a  courage  strong  enough  to  face  all  the  ills  that 
earth  can  bring  to  men  and  women." 

"Surely  thou  speakest  with  authority,  Gerson 
Brandt."  As  Walda  spoke  there  was  a  little  smile 

68 


W  A  L  D  A 

upon  her  lips.     ' '  I  might  almost  think  that  thou  hadst 
known  the  joy  and  pain  of  loving." 

"In  books  I  have  read  of  the  love  of  men  and 
women.  There  is  one  named  Shakespeare,  who  long 
ago  wrote  much  of  the  history  of  the  human  heart." 

"In  the  Bible  are  many  stories  of  the  love  of  men 
and  women,"  said  Walda,  "and  sometimes  I  have 
wondered  why,  in  this  late  day,  it  should  have  become 
so  wrong  a  thing  to  find  on  earth  a  dear  companion 
ship." 

Gerson  Brandt  turned  away  and  walked  across  the 
room.  When  he  came  back  he  spoke  in  a  steady 
voice. 

"When  the  soul  findeth  on  earth  peace  and  happi 
ness,  it  is  easy  to  forget  there  is  a  heaven  that  lasts 
through  eternity,  and  that  these  little  years  shall  be 
swallowed  up  in  the  vast  expanse  of  time.  It  were 
better  to  deny  one's  self  joy  here  in  order  to  be  sure 
of  happiness  hereafter." 

"But  even  to  me  earth  often  seems  so  near  and 
dear,  and  heaven  so  far  off,  that  now  and  then  I  can 
understand  why  the  soul  should  reach  out  towards 
some  one  who  could  share  all  the  little  every-day  hap 
pinesses  and  troubles,"  said  Walda. 

"  It  hath  been  given  to  man  always  to  be  lonely  in 
the  world,"  answered  Gerson  Brandt.  "Each  soul 
must  travel  like  a  stray  pilgrim  who  can  only  greet 
other  wayfarers  and  pass  on.' 

69 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Nay,  Gerson  Brandt,  we  need  not  be  lonely  here. 
In  Zanah  all  are  friends  and  brothers.  So  long  as 
thou  livest  I  can  never  feel  that  I  am  a  solitary  trav 
eller." 

A  crimson  flush  swept  over  the  face  of  the  school 
master,  and  when  the  wave  receded  he  was  deathly 
pale. 

"  All  these  years  my  care  hath  been  over  thee,  Wai- 
da.  My  prayers  have  been  for  thee;  my  hopes  have 
been  set  on  thee.  When  thou  hast  become,  indeed, 
the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  I  shall  know  that  thou  art 
safe  forever.  Then  shall  I  find  peace  indeed." 

"Safe,  Gerson  Brandt!  What  dost  thou  mean? 
Safe  from  what?  I  cannot  be  safer  than  I  am  now." 

Gerson  Brandt  made  no  reply.  He  walked  to  the 
window  and  looked  out  upon  the  little  garden. 

Walda  was  lost  in  thought  for  a  moment  or  two. 
Presently  she  said: 

"Oh,  Gerson  Brandt,  I  know  that  I  am  like  unto 
Eve,  for  when  thou  and  the  elders  warn  me  so  much 
about  love  there  comes  to  me  the  desire  to  under 
stand  it." 

"  None  can  understand  love,  Walda.  It  is  revealed 
to  every  man  and  every  woman  in  a  different  form. 
It  is  the  all-compassing  emotion  that  moveth  the 
world." 

Walda  rose  to  her  feet.  Stepping  close  to  the 
school-master,  she  said: 

70 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Why,  Gerson  Brandt,  there  is  that  in  thy  voice 
that  maketh  me  feel  thou  dost  know  much  concern 
ing  love,  which  thou  sayest  is  sinful  and  unworthy. 
Hast  thou  been  tempted?" 

"  Mayhap  I  have.  Here  in  Zanah  we  who  keep  the 
precepts  of  the  colony  close  to  our  hearts  are  safe  in 
deed.  By  much  praying  and  constant  vigilance  we 
can  escape  all  danger." 

"  Surely  earthly  love  could  never  touch  thee  or  me, 
and  why  shouldst  we  waste  time  talking  about  the 
pitfalls  that  will  never  come  in  the  way  of  our  foot 
steps  as  we  traverse  the  quiet  paths  of  Zanah?" 

"  It  is  well  to  remember,  Walda,  that  even  in  Zanah, 
our  Garden  of  Eden,  there  is  a  tree  of  knowledge;  but 
so  long  as  we  taste  not  the  forbidden  fruit  we  need 
have  no  fears." 

"Fears?  My  heart  is  so  lifted  up  in  these  days 
there  falleth  upon  me  not  the  smallest  shadow  of  the 
smallest  fear  to  disturb  me.  I  am  full  of  gratitude 
and  humility  in  the  knowledge  that  I  have  been 
chosen  to  be  the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  and  each  day 
there  comes  to  me  a  broader  faith  and  a  surer  con 
viction  concerning  the  things  revealed  to  us  through 
the  Great  Book." 

Gerson  Brandt  was  again  silent  for  a  long  time. 
Once  he  took  a  step  towards  the  girl,  who  was  still 
standing  before  the  bench  from  which  she  had  risen. 
He  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  he  said,  slowly: 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Walda,  when  thou  art  given  the  tongue  of  the 
Spirit,  thou  wilt  be  separated  from  all  Zanah.  Thou 
wilt  then  live  close  to  thy  Creator,  and,  even  though 
I  am  an  elder,  I  shall  be  denied  the  privilege  of  speak 
ing  to  thee.  Lest  there  be  no  opportunity  to  talk 
again  to  thee  alone,  I  will  tell  thee  now  that  always 
my  thoughts  will  dwell  close  to  thee.  In  my  heart 
the  memory  of  the  little  girl  that  I  have  known  so 
many  years  will  remain  forever." 

The  tremor  in  his  voice  and  the  solemnity  of  his 
manner  cast  a  feeling  of  awe  upon  Walda.  Moved  by 
an  irresistible  impulse,  she  dropped  on  her  knees  at  his 
feet. 

"Give  me  thy  blessing,  Gerson  Brandt,"  she  said; 
and  the  man  held  his  hands  high  above  her  bent  head 
as  he  said,  simply: 

"God  bless  thee  and  keep  thee,  Walda  Kellar." 

The  girl  rose  and  slowly  passed  out  of  the  door. 

Gerson  Brandt  went  back  to  his  desk.  Again  he 
put  his  elbows  on  the  worn  lid.  Again  he  rested  his 
chin  in  his  hands.  He  sat  thus  for  half  an  hour. 
Hans  Peter,  coming  in  on  tiptoe,  walked  up  a  side 
aisle  without  being  noticed.  He  climbed  upon  the 
stool,  and  the  school-master  roused  himself  to  ask: 

"Dost  thou  want  me?" 

"Thou  wast  thinking  about  thy  lost  Bible,"  said 
the  simple  one,  ignoring  the  question.  "Thou  hast 
no  cause  to  borrow  trouble." 

72 


W  A  L  D  A 

"What  dost  thou  know  about  it?"  demanded  the 
school-master. 

"  I  know  that  it  is  where  the  Herr  Doktor  seems  not 
to  be  able  to  find  it,"  said  the  simple  one,  twirling  his 
thumbs.  "  I  know  that  it  is  lost.  I  know  thou  canst 
not  find  it." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Hans  Peter.  The  Bible  is  not  a  sub 
ject  by  which  thou  canst  display  thy  talent  for  speak 
ing:  foolish  words." 


VIII 

IT  was  the  beginning  of  spinning  -  time  in  Zanah., 
The  grape  crop  had  been  gathered,  the  bare  fields 
had  been  raked,  and  nothing  remained  to  be  done 
outside  that  could  not  be  accomplished  by  the  men 
and  boys.  Therefore  the  women  of  the  colony  were 
assigned  the  task  of  making  the  linen  used  in  the 
households  at  Zanah.  Although  the  very  latest  ma 
chinery  had  been  installed  in  the  mills,  it  was  still  the 
custom  among  the  women  to  spin  the  colony  sheets 
and  table  napery.  The  large  dining-room  in  the  inn 
had  been  cleared,  and  twenty  wheels  had  been  dis 
tributed  here  and  there  for  the  use  of  the  favored 
"mothers"  privileged  to  enjoy  what  was  really  an 
annual  week  of  gossip.  Gathered  in  the  great  din 
ing-room  were  Mother  Schneider,  Mother  Kaufmann, 
Mother  Werther,  and  their  nearest  cronies.  It  was  a 
bright  afternoon,  and  the  sun  came  in  through  the 
vine-covered  windows.  The  door  on  the  wide  porch 
was  open,  and  near  it,  in  the  choicest  place  in  the 
room,  sat  Mother  Schneider  busy  at  her  wheel.  She 
paused  to  put  back  one  of  the  strings  of  her  black  cap 
and  asked: 

74 


W  A  L  D  A 

' '  What  say  they  up  at  the  school-house  concerning 
the  lost  Bible,  Sister  Kaufmann?" 

"They  speak  naught  of  it,"  replied  the  sour-visaged 
woman,  as  she  broke  her  thread.  "Many  times  have 
I  tried  to  make  Brother  Brandt  tell  me  what  he  really 
thinks,  but  thou  knowest  he  hath  a  way  of  holding 
his  tongue." 

"Walda  Kellar  hath  made  a  good  nurse,"  said 
Mother  Werther,  who  was  busy  sorting  the  flax. 
"Anything  that  she  undertaketh  she  doeth  well." 

"She  hath  too  much  freedom  in  that  sick-room," 
declared  Mother  Schneider. 

"Yea,  she  hath,"  agreed  Mother  Kaufmann. 
"There  are  many  hours  that  I  cannot  be  there  to 
watch  her." 

"Thou  forgettest  that  Walda  Kellar  needeth  not 
watching  as  do  other  girls.  She  who  hath  been 
chosen  to  speak  for  the  Lord  surely  can  be  trusted. 
And  then  thou  knowest  she  is  with  her  own  fa 
ther." 

Mother  Werther  cast  an  indignant  glance  at  the  wife 
of  the  Herr  Doktor,  who  had  started  the  conversa 
tion. 

"  I  trust  not  that  physician  from  the  outside  world," 
said  Mother  Kaufmann.  "He  hath  queer  ways  that 
are  not  like  those  of  the  men  of  Zanah." 

"He  is  always  most  kind  and  thoughtful;  he  treats 
women  with  much  reverence,"  said  Mother  Werther. 

75 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  I  know  him  best  of  all  persons  in  Zanah,  for  doth  he 
not  stay  here  at  the  gasthaus?" 

"Since  when  didst  thou  become  a  good  judge  of 
men?"  asked  Mother  Kaufmann,  with  a  taunting  laugh 
that  showed  her  ugly  tusks.  "The  wife  who  after  fif 
teen  years  hath  not  discovered  the  faults  of  her  hus 
band  is  not  fitted  to  pass  judgment  on  any  man.  I 
do  not  like  that  Stephen  Everett." 

"  He  is  helping  Wilhelm  Kellar  to  regain  his  health," 
said  a  meek,  middle-aged  woman  who  sat  in  a  far 
corner. 

"It  is  a  fortnight  since  Brother  Kellar  was  taken 
ill,  and  he  is  still  in  bed,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann. 

"Thou  forgettest  that  Brother  Kellar  hath  been 
nigh  unto  death,"  said  Mother  Werther. 

"That  doctor  from  the  world  is  a  handsome  man," 
remarked  Gretchen  Schneider,  who  had  come  in  and 
taken  her  seat  near  her  mother. 

"Tut,  tut;  I  am  ashamed  of  thee,"  said  Mother 
Schneider,  in  a  tone  of  reproof.  "Thou  forgettest  that 
the  maidens  of  Zanah  must  not  look  upon  men,  and 
must  not  care  whether  they  be  handsome  or  hideous." 

"  Dost  thou  find  him  more  comely  than  Karl  Weisel, 
our  respected  elder?"  inquired  Mother  Werther;  and, 
despite  the  scowl  of  the  wife  of  the  Herr  Doktor, 
smothered  laughs  were  heard  from  various  parts  of 
the  room.  Gretchen  Schneider's  pale  face  flushed. 
Before  she  could  reply  her  mother  retorted: 

76 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Thy  words  are  unseemly,  Sister  Werther.  I  bid 
thee  keep  silence." 

"I  have  the  right  of  free  speech,"  the  innkeeper's 
wife  answered;  "and  there  is  none  in  Zanah  who  doth 
not  know  there  would  have  been  a  wedding  long  ago 
if  the  head  of  the  thirteen  elders  had  not  loved  his 
place  of  authority  better  than  the  daughter  of  the 
Herr  Doktor." 

In  a  moment  Mother  Schneider  flew  into  a  rage,  quite 
inconsistent  with  the  religious  principles  of  Zanah. 

"Hold  thou  thy  clattering  tongue,"  she  command 
ed  ;  and  for  the  space  of  two  minutes  not  a  word  was 
spoken  in  the  room.  The  whirring  of  the  busy  wheels 
alone  disturbed  the  quiet. 

The  entrance  of  Frieda  Bergen  fortunately  relieved 
the  situation  of  its  tensity.  The  girl  came  into  the 
room  bearing  on  her  head  a  bundle  of  flax,  which  she 
deposited  before  Mother  Werther. 

"This  I  brought  from  the  station,  whither  I  went 
with  Mother  Schmidt,"  she  said. 

"Thou  shouldst  not  have  been  allowed  to  go  to  the 
railroad,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann.  "But  what  didst 
thou  see  there?" 

"A  train  came  by  while  I  stood  on  the  platform.  I 
looked  through  one  of  the  windows  and  saw  silken- 
cushioned  seats,  and  mirrors  that  showed  gayly  dress 
ed  men  and  women.  There  was  also  a  car  in  which 
were  dining-tables.  Black  men  waited  on  women, 

77 


W  A  L  D  A 

who  laughed  and  talked  with  men.  Some  of  the 
women  wore  on  their  fingers  jewels  that  looked  like 
sparkling  glass." 

The  wheels  had  all  stopped.  Every  "mother"  in 
the  room  was  listening. 

"The  sparkling  glass  that  thou  sawest  was  what  is 
called  a  diamond,"  said  Gretchen  Schneider.  "Jew 
els  are  worn  by  those  who  have  vanity  in  their 
souls." 

"Truly,  the  rings  were  very  beautiful,"  said  Frieda 
Bergen. 

"Thou  wert  ever  a  foolish  maid,"  said  Mother 
Schneider,  in  a  tone  of  severe  reproof.  "Put  out  of 
thy  thoughts  what  thou  hast  seen  to-day.  I  shall 
have  the  Herr  Doktor  forbid  thee  from  going  to  the 
station." 

"  Nay,  Sister  Schneider,  scold  not  Frieda.  She  hath 
done  no  harm,"  said  Mother  Werther.  "It  should  not 
hurt  her  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  vanities  of  the  world, 
for  she  is  well  grounded  in  the  faith  of  Zanah.  She 
knoweth  that  the  costly  gauds  are  but  the  playthings 
of  sin-ridden  women." 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  Frieda  Bergen 
shook  her  head  doubtfully. 

"Truly,  those  worldly  ones  appeared  happy,"  she 
said.  "There  were  some  that  read  books  and  leaned 
back  on  velvet  cushions.  They  looked  as  if  they 
never  worked.  Some  of  the  women  were  beautiful. 

78 


W  A  L  D  A 

They  wore  no  caps  upon  their  hair.  Their  frocks 
were  not  all  alike,  as  they  are  here  in  Zanah." 

"See,  the  daughter  of  Zanah  is  touched  by  the 
temptations  of  the  world,"  said  Mother  Schneider. 
"We  have  heard  enough.  Begin  thy  work,  Frieda 
Bergen." 

"  If  what  I  hear  is  true,  the  elders  should  discipline 
Frieda,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann,  with  a  sneer.  "It 
hath  come  to  my  ears  that  she  hath  often  spoken  with 
Joseph  Hoff." 

Frieda  Bergen  bent  her  head  over  her  work.  A  tell 
tale  blush  overspread  her  delicate  skin,  and  her  hand 
trembled  as  she  took  up  her  distaff. 

"Frieda  Bergen  hath  the  right  to  love  Joseph  Hoff 
if  she  chooseth,"  said  Mother  Werther,  rising  from  her 
chair  and  walking  the  length  of  the  room  to  the  place 
where  the  girl  sat.  "  Love  may  be  a  foolish  thing  in 
the  eyes  of  Zanah,  but  it  bringeth  its  reward." 

"Thou  art  teaching  heresy,  Sister  Werther,"  said 
Mother  Schneider.  "If  the  elders  knew  of  thy  het 
erodoxy  thou  wouldst  have  to  do  penance  through 
some  hard  task." 

Mother  Werther  smiled  in  a  tantalizing  way.  She 
drew  in  a  long  breath  as  she  were  about  to  retort,  and 
then,  thinking  better  of  it,  went  back  to  her  work. 

"If  Frieda  is  wise  she  will  follow  the  example  of 
some  of  us  who  have  served  God  faithfully  all  un 
mindful  of  man,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann.  Her  re- 

79 


W  A  L  D  A 

mark  was  too  much  for  Mother  Werther.  Dropping 
her  flax,  the  innkeeper's  wife  put  her  hands  upon  her 
hips  and  laughed. 

"And  hast  thou  always  been  unmindful  of  Gerson 
Brandt?"  she  inquired. 

"Mother,  thou  shouldst  put  an  end  to  this  unseemly 
talk,"  said  Gretchen  Schneider. 

"Yea,  thou  hast  something  to  fear  lest  it  be  remem 
bered  how  narrowly  thou  hast  escaped  love,"  said 
Mother  Werther. 

"Stop  thine  unruly  tongue,"  admonished  Mother 
Schneider. 

"Thou  forgettest  that  in  Zanah  all  men  and  women 
are  equal,"  said  Mother  Werther.  "Thy  husband,  the 
Herr  Doktor,  is  enjoying  but  a  brief  authority.  Thou 
art  not  greater  than  any  other  woman  in  the  colony." 

Mother  Schneider  gasped  in  anger,  but  before  she 
could  reply  a  shadow  was  cast  upon  the  floor  and 
Walda  Kellar  entered.  Her  sweet  face  wore  an  un 
troubled  look.  She  smiled  upon  all  the  women  gath 
ered  in  the  room. 

"Something  brought  me  here  among  you,"  she  said. 
"I  have  but  just  come  from  my  father's  sick-room, 
and  as  I  walked  long,  thinking  of  the  coming  Unter- 
suchung,  I  felt  that  I  wanted  once  more  to  spin  with 
the  women  of  Zanah." 

"Thou  bringest  peace  with  thee,"  said  Mother 
Werther. 

80 


W  A  L  D  A 

Frieda  Bergen  rose  frpm  her  little,  low-backed 
chair,  and  Walda  Kellar  seated  herself  before  the 
girl's  wheel. 

Silence  fell  upon  the  room.  The  girl's  presence 
commanded  reverence.  In  her  eyes  was  a  peculiar 
light,  and  her  face  was  radiant.  Slowly  she  began  to 
turn  her  wheel. 

"It  is  very  good  to  be  here,"  she  said,  presently. 
"  If  the  Lord  giveth  me  the  tongue  of  inspiration  there 
will  be  other  tasks  for  me,  and  now  and  then,  when  I 
am  not  quite  so  strong  in  the  faith  as  I  ought  to  be,  I 
wonder  whether  I  shall  not  sometimes  be  an  unworthy 
instrument  of  the  Lord,  because  the  little  things  of 
life,  it  seemeth,  will  always  have  a  charm  for  me. 
While  the  great,  leather-bound  books  of  Zanah  have 
much  to  teach  me,  there  are  days  when  my  inclina 
tions  draw  me  towards  the  labors  which  belong  jo  the 
women  of  the  colony." 

No  one  answered.  For  a  few  moments  the  wheels 
whirred  again,  and  not  a  word  disturbed  the  pleasant 
hum  of  industry.  Presently  Walda's  voice  rose  in  a 
minor  hymn.  The  deep,  rich  cadences  swelled  above 
the  sound  of  the  wheels.  It  was  a  weird,  plaintive 
tune  to  which  she  sang  German  words  which  breathed 
a  prayer  for  light  upon  the  way  that  led  through  the 
sin-encompassed  world.  She  paused  after  the  first 
verse.  Appearing  to  forget  her  work,  she  clasped  her 
hands  in  her  lap  and  sang  again  with  such  sweetness 

6  8l 


W  A  L  D  A 

and  such  pathos  that  Mother  Werther  wiped  her  eyes. 
The  singing  had  brought  some  one  to  the  porch  out 
side,  but  Walda  appeared  not  to  hear  the  footstep. 
She  sang  on  and  on,  and  when  the  last  verse  died  upon 
her  lips  she  sat  very  still,  as  if  her  soul  had  gone  out 
with  the  strange  melody. 

Everett,  who  had  come  to  the  window,  looking 
through  the  blinds,  beheld  the  prophetess.  For  the 
moment  the  woman  was  lost,  and  he  felt  an  over 
whelming  sense  of  her  aloofness  from  him.  There 
came  to  him  a  full  realization  of  the  gulf  between  him 
and  this  woman  of  Zanah,  who  belonged  so  little  to 
the  world  and  so  much  to  heaven.  For  several  min 
utes  he  stood  fascinated  as  he  gazed  upon  her,  but, 
summoning  all  his  will-power,  he  turned  away  lest 
he  should  be  discovered  spying  upon  the  women  of 
Zanah.  As  he  walked  towards  the  bluffs  he  met 
Hans  Peter  moving  along  in  a  leisurely  manner.  The 
witchery  of  Walda's  song  was  still  upon  him,  and 
he  would  have  passed  the  simple  one  without  a 
greeting,  but  Hans  Peter  stepped  directly  in  his 
path. 

"Thou  hast  made  trouble  in  Zanah,"  said  the  sim 
ple  one,  staring  at  him  with  unblinking  eyes  and 
doubling  up  one  fat  fist.  "The  day  that  thou  goest 
hence  to  the  wicked  world  where  thou  belongest  will 
be  a  happy  one." 

"You  speak  with  but  scant  respect  for  the  stranger 
82 


W  A  L  D  A 

within  your  gates,"  said  Everett,  who  was  amused  by 
the  vehemence  of  the  village  fool. 

Hans  Peter  removed  his  ragged  cap.  "Thou  hast 
brought  sorrow  to  Gerson  Brandt,"  he  continued, 
"for  thou  wouldst  have  taken  the  Bible  that  he  was 
making  beautiful  for  Walda  Kellar." 

Everett  studied  the  odd  little  figure  before  him  for 
a  moment.  It  was  the  first  time  that  Hans  Peter  had 
betrayed,  in  manner  or  countenance,  the  least  trace 
of  emotion.  Even  now,  as  the  simple  one  stood  blink 
ing  his  eyes,  the  man  of  the  world  could  not  compre 
hend  his  motive  in  making  the  unexpected  accusa 
tion. 

"You  seem  almost  excited,  Hans  Peter,"  said  Ev 
erett,  presently,  when  the  boy  had  begun  to  show  that 
the  silence  was  uncomfortable.  "And  why  are  you 
concerned  about  the  Bible?" 

"The  school-master  setteth  great  store  on  the  Sa 
cred  Book,"  replied  the  simple  one.  "He  hath  been 
kind  to  me,  and  I  like  not  to  see  him  troubled." 

"And  is  not  every  one  kind  to  you,  Hans  Peter?" 

The  simple  one  thrust  his  hand  into  his  deep  pocket 
and  hung  his  head. 

' '  The  people  of  Zanah  are  many  times  vexed  with 
the  fool,"  he  said.  "They  have  scant  patience  with 
one  who  believes  not  as  they  do.  In  all  the  colony 
there  are  only  three  who  seem  to  forget  that  Hans 
Peter  is  the  village  fool." 

83 


W  A  L  D  A 

"And  who  are  they?  Gerson  Brandt  is  one,  I 
know.  Who  are  the  others?" 

"The  prophetess  of  Zanah  and  Mother  Werther." 

"And  do  you  not  believe  in  the  prophetess  of  Zanah  ? 
Have  you  not  faith  that  she  will  be  the  inspired  one?" 

"Why  do  you  question  the  village  fool?"  asked 
Hans  Peter,  suddenly,  wary  lest  he  should  tell  some 
thing  that  he  wished  to  conceal.  "Thou  knowest 
that  to  all  the  colony  Walda  Kellar  is  the  revered  one. 
Truly,  she  walketh  near  to  God." 

"Then  perhaps  some  day  she  will  lead  you  into 
the  full  faith  of  Zanah?"  said  Everett.  But  the  fool 
shook  his  head. 

"Hans  Peter  loveth  earth,  not  heaven.  He  would 
not  be  wise  as  the  men  of  Zanah  are  wise,  for  verily 
their  wisdom  bringeth  them  no  joy." 

"Hans  Peter,  you  speak  as  one  who  has  much 
knowledge,  after  all.  I  am  beginning  to  think  that 
you  are  the  wisest  man  in  the  colony." 

"If  there  is  wisdom  in  knowing  one  is  a  fool  and 
being  content  in  his  own  folly,  then  am  I  wise.  They 
say  that  the  fool  is  often  given  the  power  of  prophecy ; 
and  when  I  was  carving  the  day  of  the  month  upon 
one  of  the  gourds  I  keep  to  help  my  memory,  there 
came  to  me  the  fear  that  something  was  coming  to 
Zanah  through  thee.  I  ran  to  seek  thee  that  I  might 
give  warning  of  the  trouble  thou  art  bringing  to  the 
colony." 

84 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett  reached  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat,  took 
out  a  cigar,  and  lighted  it.  "  Perhaps  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  in  just  what  way  I  am  to  bring 
more  trouble  to  Zanah,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "I 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  loss  of  the  Bible,  for  I  have 
refused  to  buy  it,  and  I  give  you  my  word  now,  Hans 
Peter,  that  I  will  never  take  it  away  from  Gerson 
Brandt." 

"Thy  word  is  not  needed  now,"  answered  the  fool. 
"The  Bible  is  where  thou  canst  not  get  it." 

"And  you  know  where  it  is,"  said  Everett,  so 
quickly  that  the  fool  was  taken  off  his  guard. 

"And  if  I  do,  no  one  shall  find  it,"  the  simple  one 
declared,  with  a  gesture  of  his  arm  and  a  stamp  of  his 
bare  foot. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  wise  for  you  to  take 
back  the  Bible  to  Gerson  Brandt?"  Everett  inquired, 
walking  a  few  steps  to  his  right,  where  there  was  a 
great  tree  against  which  he  leaned. 

"  If  the  Bible  could  be  found  it  would  not  again  be 
put  in  Gerson  Brandt's  hands.  It  is  better  that  it 
should  be  lost  forever  than  that  he  should  see  it  owned 
by  another  man." 

"Why  is  this  Bible  so  precious  to  the  school-master? 
Can't  you  tell  me,  Hans  Peter?  Perhaps  I  may  help 
you  to  restore  it  to  him.  You  see,  I  might  buy  it  and 
give  it  back  to  Gerson  Brandt." 

"No  man  in  Zanah  can  own  anything.  If  the 
85 


W  A  L  D  A 

Bible  should  be  given  to  Gerson  Brandt  it  would  still 
belong  to  the  colony,  and  it  could  be  sold  again." 
The  simple  one  had  thrown  himself  upon  the  ground, 
and,  with  chin  in  his  hands  and  elbows  dug  deeply  in 
the  earth,  he  appeared  to  be  thinking. 

"Tell  me  about  the  Bible,"  urged  Everett,  and  he 
waited  as  impatiently  for  the  village  fool  to  speak  as 
if  some  matter  of  tremendous  importance  to  him,  the 
man  of  affairs  out  in  the  great  world,  hung  in  the  bal 
ance.  There  was  something  almost  absurd  in  the 
contrast  between  the  two  who  talked  there  in  the 
summer  afternoon.  Stephen  Everett  was  a  man  to 
be  noticed  anywhere.  It  was  not  altogether  his  phys 
ical  beauty  that  invariably  commanded  attention;  he 
had  an  unusual  charm  of  personality. 

Hans  Peter,  with  his  long,  straight  tow  hair  tangled 
upon  his  big,  round  head,  kicked  his  earth-stained  feet 
in  the  air  as  he  lay  at  length  upon  the  ground.  His 
blue  cotton  shirt,  torn  down  the  back,  revealed  a  strip 
of  white  skin,  and  his  baggy  trousers  were  held  by  the 
one  button  which  attached  them  to  a  knitted  suspen 
der.  The  pocket  in  the  back  of  his  trousers  bulged 
with  one  of  the  gourds  that  he  carried  with  him  wher 
ever  he  went. 

"I  am  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me  about  the  Bible," 
Everett  remarked,  when  he  had  smoked  half  of  his 
cigar. 

Hans  Peter  reached  back  and  removed  the  gourd 
86 


W  A  L  D  A 

from  his  pocket.  Then,  sitting  up,  he  began  to  ex 
amine  it  carefully. 

"It  was  long  ago  that  it  came  to  Hans  Peter  one 
day,  as  he  watched  Gerson  Brandt  at  work  with  his 
bright  inks,  that  the  school-master's  thoughts  were  on 
Walda  Kellar  as  he  made  the  gay  letters  in  the  great 
book.  Lest  the  fool  might  forget,  he  marked  on  his 
gourd  some  lines  to  make  him  remember.  Many 
times  after  that  he  saw  that  the  school-master  was 
praying  for  her  who  would  be  inspired.  Hans  Peter 
knew  that  the  Bible  was  for  Walda  Kellar,  and  that 
the  school-master  meant  it  for  her  to  read  every  day 
when  she  should  become  an  instrument  of  the  Lord. 
That  is  why  Gerson  Brandt  loved  the  Bible.  That  is 
why  no  other  man  should  have  it.". 

Everett  left  his  place  at  the  tree,  and,  pacing  back 
and  forth,  pondered  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  in 
formation  that  the  simple  one  had  given  him. 

"Ah,  the  school-master  is  a  second  father  to  Walda 
Kellar,  I  suppose?"  he  said,  presently,  casting  a  fur 
tive  glance  at  the  fool. 

"Nay,  he  hath  not  years  enough  to  make  it  right 
he  should  love  her  as  a  father,"  declared  Hans  Peter, 
nodding  his  head.  "The  simple  one  hath  been  taught 
that  love  is  a  wicked  thing,  but  there  is  in  Gerson 
Brandt's  heart  something  that  may  be  love,  like  that 
with  which  he  worships  angels." 

"Again  I  tell  you,  Hans  Peter,  you  are  the  wisest 
87 


W  A  L  D  A 

of  all  the  colonists  in  Zanah,"  said  Everett.  "There, 
go  about  your  errands." 

"But  thou  wilt  promise  not  to  buy  the  Bible,  even 
if  it  is  ever  found?"  said  Hans  Peter,  coming  close  to 
Everett  and  lowering  his  voice. 

"Yes,  yes;  you  have  my  word  for  it.  I  shall  not 
buy  it  unless  it  is  to  aid  Gerson  Brandt,"  Everett  re 
plied.  "And,  Hans  Peter,  give  me  your  hand.  I 
pledge  my  word." 

The  fool  hesitatingly  put  out  his  fat,  work-hardened 
hand,  and  Everett  gave  it  a  hearty  clasp. 


IX 


WILHELM  KELLAR  lay  propped  up  in  the  four- 
posted  bedstead  that  stood  in  his  little  alcove. 
His  thin  face  showed  the  effect  of  his  illness,  and  the 
hand  that  played  with  the  flowered  coverlet  was  thin 
to  the  point  of  translucency.  His  long,  white  hair 
was  brushed  straight  back  from  his  high  forehead ;  his 
eyes,  which  had  sunk  deep  into  their  sockets,  wan 
dered  restlessly. 

"Walda,  where  art  thou?"  he  said,  in  a  thick,  in 
distinct  voice.  Walda  pushed  back  the  chintz  cur 
tains  that  divided  the  alcove  from  the  larger  room, 
and,  kneeling  beside  her  father,  took  one  of  his  hands 
in  hers. 

' '  I  have  been  thinking  of  the  Untersuchung,  daugh 
ter,"  said  the  sick  man,  "and  I  pray  that  I  may  be 
able  to  be  present  when  the  spirit  descends  upon 
thee." 

"Thou  wilt  be  well  in  another  month,"  said  Walda, 
soothingly,  as  she  stroked  the  white  hair.  "The  phy 
sician  hath  said  that  thou  canst  soon  leave  thy  bed." 

"  But  the  Untersuchung  is  only  two  weeks  off,"  said 
Wilhelm  Kellar,  "  It  may  be  that  if  strength  is  not 

89 


W  A  L  D  A 

vouchsafed  me  so  that  I  may  walk  again  a  litter  can 
be  made  for  me.  I  would  be  carried  to  the  place  if  I 
cannot  go  there  myself." 

"There  is  some  talk  that  the  Untersuchung  may  be 
delayed  for  a  month,"  said  Walda,  "and  then  thou 
wilt  surely  be  able  to  take  thy  place  among  the 
elders." 

"It  would  be  well,  indeed,  to  postpone  the  Unter- 
snchung,  for  thou  hast  been  much  distracted  from  thy 
meditations  by  my  illness." 

"Nay,  nay,  father.  Strange  thoughts  have  come 
to  me  since  I  have  been  sitting  here  many  hours  a  day 
in  this  room.  Never  hath  heaven  seemed  so  near  to 
me." 

"It  is  well,,  indeed,  that  thou  hast  never  been 
touched  by  earthly  love,"  said  the  old  man,  scanning 
the  face  of  his  daughter.  "It  was  to  keep  thee  free 
from  it  that  I  brought  thee  here  when  thou  wast  a 
little  child,  for  it  putteth  waywardness  and  froward- 
ness  into  the  heart  of  a  woman.  Since  I  have  been 
near  to  death  it  hath  been  shown  to  me  that  I  must 
warn  thee  again  lest  thou  some  time  feel  its  evil  in 
fluence.  Thy  mother  forgot  all  duty.  She  forfeited 
her  soul  for  love." 

The  old  man  spoke  with  intense  feeling;  he  trem 
bled  as  a  long-controlled  emotion  swept  over  him.  It 
was  as  if  he  had  unlocked  the  flood-gates  of  a  passion 
barred  for  many  years  within  his  heart. 

90 


W  A  L  D  A 

"What  dost  thou  mean,  father?"  asked  Walda,  ris 
ing  to  her  feet.  A  deathly  pallor  overspread  her  face, 
but  the  habit  of  repression,  taught  so  persistently  in 
Zanah,  prevented  her  from  showing  the  terror  with 
which  his  words  smote  her. 

"I  mean,"  said  Wilhelm  Kellar,  drawing  a  quick 
breath — "I  mean — "  But  suddenly  his  tongue  stif 
fened  and  refused  to  frame  the  words  he  would  have 
spoken. 

"Thou  wilt  make  thyself  more  ill,"  said  Walda. 
"Think  not  of  the  past."  Taking  a  pewter  cup  of 
water  from  the  table,  she  moistened  his  lips.  The  old 
man  clinched  his  fists  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  lay  as 
if  he  were  dead.  The  frightened  girl  ran  to  the  door 
of  the  room  to  summon  help.  Stephen  Everett  was 
coming  up  the  stairs. 

"Oh,  hasten  to  my  father!"  Walda  implored.  "I 
fear  greatly  for  him." 

Everett  went  to  the  bedside,  felt  the  old  man's 
pulse,  listened  to  his  heart,  and  discovered  that  his 
patient  had,  indeed,  some  serious  symptoms. 

"Has  anything  happened  to  disturb  your  father?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  Walda,  who  stood  with  hands 
clasped  around  one  of  the  head-posts  of  the  bed  while 
she  watched  him  with  breathless  interest. 

"He  began  to  talk  to  me  of  the  past,"  said  the 
girl,  with  hesitation,  and  Everett  saw  tears  in  her 
eyes. 


W  A  L  D  A 

"And  he  recalled  some  memory  that  troubled  him  ?" 
asked  Everett. 

"  Yea,  yea ;  he  would  have  told  me  something  of  my 
mother,"  said  the  girl,  as  she  turned  to  go  into  the 
outer  room. 

Everett  administered  a  soothing-potion,  and  went 
out  of  the  alcove  to  find  that  Walda  was  sitting  by 
the  old  carven  table  with  her  head  bowed  upon  her 
hands. 

" Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  "your  father  will  re 
cover  from  this  temporary  relapse."  His  voice  and 
manner  were  so  sympathetic  that  the  girl  began  to 
weep. 

"  Be  blind  to  my  weakness,  O  stranger  in  Zanah," 
she  said,  presently  lifting  her  head  proudly  and  bit 
ing  her  trembling  lips.  "My  faith  teacheth  me  that 
nothing  which  belongeth  to  earth  is  worth  a  tear. 
The  people  of  Zanah  are  trained  to  accept  the  de 
crees  of  God.  For  an  hour  I  have  been  thinking  of 
self.  Strength  will  be  given  me  to  put  these  rebel 
lious  impulses  from  me."  She  went  to  the  win 
dow,  where  the  chaffinch  was  hanging  in  his  wicker 
cage. 

"Piepmatz,  thou  hast  no  foolish  tears;  thou  canst 
teach  me  a  lesson  that  I  need;  thou  art  undisturbed 
by  any  distrust  in  thy  nature."  Piepmatz,  thrusting 
his  head  for  ward /looked  out  between  the  bars  of  his 
little  prison.  Then  he  chirped  a  cheery  note.  Ev- 

92 


W  A  L  D  A 

erett  went  close  to  the  cage  and  whistled  to  the  bird, 
which  paid  no  attention  to  him. 

"  If  I  can  be  of  service  to  you,  you  must  command 
me,"  he  said  to  Walda  Kellar.  "You  must  not  think 
of  me  as  the  stranger  in  Zanah.  Have  I  not  earned 
the  right  to  be  called  a  friend?"  He  did  not  look  at 
her  as  he  spoke  lest  she  might  be  awakened  to  the 
fact  that  he  took  more  than  a  passing  interest  in  her. 

"  We  use  not  the  word  friend  in  Zanah,"  said  Walda. 
"  Here  we  are  all  brothers  and  sisters.  And  what  dost 
thou  mean  by  being  a  friend?" 

Out  in  the  world  Everett  had  the  reputation  of 
being  ever  ready  with  words,  but  when  the  future 
prophetess  of  Zanah  looked  up  at  him  with  question 
ing  eyes  he  was  abashed. 

"  I  mean,"  he  began — "  I  mean  that  I  want  you  to 
feel  you  can  trust  me  even  more  than  if  I  were  a 
brother  of  Zanah,"  he  replied,  rather  lamely. 

Walda  looked  puzzled. 

"There  is  none  whom  I  could  trust  more  than  the 
men  of  Zanah,"  she  said.  "I  have  been  taught  by 
Adolph  Schneider  and  the  elders  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  friendship  between  men  and  women. 
The  Bible  telleth  that  David  and  Jonathan  were 
friends,  but  truly  I  cannot  remember  that  there  were 
men  and  women  in  Holy  Writ  who  called  each  other 
by  that  word  thou  wouldst  have  me  give  to  thee  in 
my  thoughts." 

93 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett  now  sought  in  vain  for  an  argument  that 
he  would  dare  make  bold  to  use.  Suddenly  he  re 
gretted  that  he  had  neglected  to  study  the  Bible 
since  his  Sunday-school  days  had  ended.  He  tried  to 
think  of  all  the  Scripture  stories  he  knew,  dimly  hop 
ing  that  somewhere  he  could  recall  one  that  would  be 
a  fit  illustration.  He  felt  a  disgust  with  himself  when 
he  discovered  how  lamentably  ignorant  he  was.  If 
he  could  only  have  commanded  a  text  that  would  be 
convincing,  he  felt  that  he  might  be  able  to  win  some 
thing  more  than  an  impersonal  gratitude  from  the 
future  prophetess  of  Zanah,  who  had  almost  ignored 
him  during  the  fortnight  that  had  passed  since  he  had 
been  serving  her  father  for  her  sake. 

"Out  in  the  world  there  are  many  friendships  be 
tween  men  and  women,"  he  declared. 

"Then,  indeed,  must  they  be  sinful,"  said  Walda, 
' '  for  I  have  heard  that  there  be  few  who  serve  the 
Lord  with  singleness  of  purpose  out  there  beyond  the 
bluffs." 

"Do  not  condemn  the  world  too  severely.  Surely 
you  do  not  think  that  I  am  such  a  wicked  man?"  His 
effort  to  draw  attention  to  himself  failed,  however,  for 
Walda  was  gazing  out  upon  the  bluffs  as  if  she  had 
forgotten  him  in  thinking  of  the  great  world  that 
Zanah  barred  out. 

"Still  thou  hast  not  told  me  the  true  meaning  of  a 
friend."  she  said,  presently,  and  again  Everett  be- 

94 


W  A  L  D  A 

came  aware  that  somehow  he  had  lost  the  gift  of 
speech. 

"  Perhaps  I  cannot  find  words  to  make  the  meaning 
of  friendship  plain,"  he  said,  finally,  "but  I  will  try  to 
teach  you  what  the  word  implies." 

"Nay,  Stephen  Everett,  it  is  not  right  that  thou 
shouldst  teach  me  anything,  since  thou  art  of  the 
world,  to  which  thou  wilt  soon  return." 

"The  world  will  never  be  the  same  to  me  after  I 
leave  Zanah,"  said  Everett. 

"Hast  thine  eyes  been  opened  to  its  wickedness?" 

"No.  Since  I  came  to  the  colony  I  have  thought 
little  of  the  world,  but  my  eyes  have  been  opened  to 
some  things  to  which  they  were  blind  before — things 
that  do  not  belong  to  the  every-day  world." 

Again  he  was  afraid  to  let  himself  look  at  Walda, 
and  he  appeared  to  be  addressing  Piepmatz.  Walda 
did  not  reply  to  him.  She  was  thinking  again  of  the 
life  beyond  the  bluffs. 

"Often  have  I  tried  to  imagine  what  life  must  be 
outside  of  Zanah,"  Walda  remarked,  by-and-by,  after 
a  long  silence.  "  Now  and  then  stray  memories  come 
back  to  me,  for  thou  knowest  I  was  born  in  the  world, 
and  that  I  was  a  little  child  who  brought  to  the  colony 
recollections  of  another  existence.  It  is  these  memo 
ries  that  compel  me  oftentimes  to  pray  that  I  may  be 
spared  temptation  which  should  never  assail  a  woman 
of  Zanah." 

95 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Surely  no  temptation  could  come  to  you,"  said 
Everett. 

"Thou  knowest  little  of  a  woman's  heart.  The  seeds 
of  vanity  are  here,"  she  said,  folding  her  hands  upon 
her  breast.  "I  find  pleasure  in  the  flowers  and  the 
pretty  things  that  God  hath  made." 

"It  seems  to  me  a  sin  for  the  colonists  to  deny  its 
members  the  highest  joys  that  have  been  given  to 
men  and  women,"  said  Everett.  "  I  have  often  won 
dered  whether  you  had  any  idea  of  all  that  you  miss 
here  in  Zanah." 

"I  miss  nothing  that  is  best  for  my  well-being," 
said  Walda.  "Thou  wouldst  not  plant  discontent  in 
my  heart,  wouldst  thou,  Stephen  Everett?" 

"  I  would  have  you  enjoy  all  that  is  most  to  be  de 
sired  in  life,"  said  Everett;  and  as  he  spoke  he  felt 
for  the  hundredth  time  an  overwhelming  impatience 
with  the  creed  of  the  colony  which  denied  to  the  young 
and  beautiful  all  that  made  living  worth  while. 

Walda  went  to  the  chest  of  drawers,  and,  taking  her 
knitting  from  a  little  basket,  sank  upon  a  low  chair, 
from  which  she  could  get  a  glimpse  of  her  sleeping 
father.  Everett  felt  that  she  had  dismissed  him.  He 
took  up  his  hat  and  said: 

"You  told  me  I  might  call  you  Walda,  so  I  shall 
say,  Good-night,  Walda." 

"Good-night,"  said  the  girl. 

Everett  hesitated. 

96 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Will  you  not  say,  'Good-night,  Stephen'?"  he 
asked. 

Walda  stopped  knitting. 

"Why  wouldst  thou  have  me  say  thy  name  again?" 
she  inquired. 

For  the  twentieth  time  Everett  was  embarrassed. 

"Because  it  is  the  custom  of  friends  to  speak  one 
another's  names,"  he  explained. 

"But  we  are  not  friends,"  said  Walda. 

"At  least  you  will  repay  me  for  my  long  stay  here 
in  the  colony  by  speaking  my  name  now  and  then," 
he  insisted,  hypocritically. 

There  was  the  barest  shadow  of  a  smile  on  the  lips 
of  the  future  prophetess  of  Zanah.  "Good-night, 
Stephen,"  she  said;  and  because  he  could  find  no  ex 
cuse  for  lingering  longer  in  the  quaint  room  under  the 
eaves,  he  went  away. 

7 


X 


WILHELM  KELLAR'S  health  mended  slowly. 
Some  days  he  felt  strong  enough  to  be  lifted  out 
upon  the  chintz-covered  lounge  in  the  large  room,  but 
every  attempt  to  hasten  convalescence  appeared  fu 
tile,  and  after  a  morning  spent  out  of  bed  he  always 
felt  a  reaction.  On  one  of  his  best  days  he  lay  on  the 
lounge,  which  had  been  pushed  into  the  bay-window. 
Above  his  head  hung  Piepmatz.  When  Everett  came 
to  make  the  first  call  of  the  day,  the  bird  was  trilling 
his  one  bar  of  the  doxology,  with  long  breaks  now 
and  then  between  the  notes.  Walda  was  trimming  a 
plant  that  stood  on  the  table  near  which  sat  Gerson 
Brandt.  The  school-master  watched  the  future  proph 
etess  intently,  and  at  first  he  did  not  notice  Everett's 
entrance. 

"My  patient  must  be  better,"  said  Everett,  passing 
to  the  window,  and  Walda,  turning  from  the  table, 
answered : 

"We  are  happy,  indeed,  to-day.  My  father  hath 
already  begun  to  think  about  his  work  in  the  col 
ony." 

"You  must  not  be  too  ambitious,"  said  Everett, 
98 


W  A  L  D  A 

drawing  a  stool  to  the  foot  of  the  lounge  and  placing 
himself  where  he  could  study  the  old  man's  face. 

"I  have  declared  a  half-holiday  that  I  may  cele 
brate  the  return  of  health  to  Brother  Kellar,"  said 
Gerson  Brandt,  smiling  upon  his  old  friend,  who  lay, 
weak  and  prostrated,  among  the  pillows.  At  this 
point  Piepmatz  abandoned  the  doxology  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  song. 

"  Hush,  thou  saucy  bird,"  Walda  commanded.  She 
went  to  the  cage  and  playfully  shook  her  finger  at 
the  chaffinch.  "See,  he  knoweth  there  is  reason  to 
be  glad,"  she  declared.  "Verily  he  hath  much  wis 
dom." 

"  Piepmatz  is  something  of  a  philosopher,"  remark 
ed  Everett.  "  He  makes  the  best  of  his  imprisonment. 
Like  the  people  of  Zanah,  he  appears  to  care  little 
for  the  great  world." 

"  He  hath  taught  me  many  a  lesson  of  submission," 
said  Walda. 

"Still,  his  tiny  heart  is  easily  touched  by  worldly 
things,"  said  the  school-master.  "He  hath  shown  a 
dangerous  inclination  to  take  up  the  song  the  stranger 
hath  whistled." 

' '  Let  me  see  whether  you  have  forgotten  the  world 
ly  song."  It  was  Everett  who  spoke.  Going  to  the 
cage  he  whistled  the  minor  strain  of  the  love-song. 
Piepmatz  proudly  imitated  him. 

"You  see,  I  might  have  been  a  good  school-master 
99 


W  A  L  D  A 

if  fate  had  not  decreed  otherwise,"  said  Everett,  ad 
dressing  Gerson  Brandt. 

"What  is  thy  work  in  the  world?"  asked  Walda. 
"Since  my  thoughtless  plea  kept  thee  here  I  have 
often  wondered  about  thy  daily  labors.  At  first  I 
thought  thou  didst  tend  the  sick,  but  once  I  heard 
thee  say  that  thou  hadst  not  yet  begun  that  labor." 

"So  far  I  have  not  done  any  one  thing,"  Everett 
confessed,  with  a  feeling  of  shame. 

"  How  dost  thou  spend  thy  days?"  the  school-mas 
ter  inquired. 

Everett  hesitated  before  answering.  In  all  his  life 
it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to  think  how  his  days 
were  spent. 

"Since  I  left  college  I  have  travelled  a  great  deal," 
he  replied,  evasively. 

"And  hast  thou  seen  the  whole  world?"  asked 
Walda.  Wonder  was  written  on  her  face. 

"I  have  seen  much  of  it." 

Wilhelm  Kellar  made  an  inarticulate  sound. 

"Perhaps  it  disturbeth  Brother  Kellar  to  hear  thee 
speak  of  the  wicked  world  which  he  left  long  ago," 
said  Gerson  Brandt.  "  Like  thee,  he  hath  seen  it  all; 
he  hath  wandered  over  land  and  sea." 

"Knowing  the  world,  my  father  hath  kept  me  safe 
from  it."  Walda  had  drawn  the  stool  first  occupied 
by  Everett  close  to  the  head  of  the  lounge,  and,  sitting 
near  to  the  sick  man,  she  clasped  one  of  his  hands. 

100 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Thou  knowest,  dear,  that  I  have  put  away  from  me 
all  vain  longings  to  know  aught  of  life  outside  of 
Zanah." 

Wilhelm  Kellar  closed  his  eyes  with  a  look  of  con 
tentment. 

' '  Didst  thou  mean  me  to  understand  that  thou  art 
that  abomination  of  the  Lord,  an  idle  and  slothful 
man?"  he  asked  Everett,  after  a  moment  of  reflec 
tion. 

"I  confess  that  I  have  not  done  half  my  duty,"  said 
Everett,  humbly;  "but  I  have  spent  many  years  in 
study;  I  have  dipped  into  science." 

"Science?  Zanah  hath  naught  to  do  with  science," 
said  Gerson  Brandt.  "Science  would  reveal  the  mys 
teries  of  nature  that  the  Lord  hath  hidden  from  his 
people." 

"Don't  you  think  that  the  man  who  inquires  just 
how  the  tiny  body  of  Piepmatz  has  had  its  origin  in 
the  egg,  how  the  bones  and  muscles  that  form  the 
wing  give  him  the  power  of  flight,  and  how  his  mite  of 
a  brain  is  made  to  be  the  home  of  at  least  a  frag 
ment  of  intelligence  has  a  wider  conception  of  the 
omnipotence  of  God  than  he  who  knows  nothing 
of  what  you  call  the  secrets  of  nature?"  asked  Ev 
erett. 

"  I  would  not  place  my  judgment  against  the  judg 
ment  of  Zanah,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "  And  yet  when 
I  was  a  boy  I  learned  about  the  growth  of  a  flower, 

101 


W  A  L  D  A 

and  my  soul  was  quickened  with  a  new  impulse  tow 
ards  worship. 

"They  tell  me  there  is  a  magic  force  called  elec 
tricity  that  is  now  performing  what  would  once  have 
been  called  miracles,"  said  Walda. 

It  seemed  incredible  to  Everett  that,  notwithstand 
ing  all  the  barriers  placed  between  Zanah  and  the  out 
side  world,  it  could  be  possible  so  completely  to  shut 
out  all  that  was  modern. 

"Yes ;  electricity  propels  cars ;  it  gives  men  the  pow 
er  to  talk  when  they  are  hundreds  of  miles  apart;  it 
sends  words  across  the  continent,  literally,  with  light 
ning  rapidity.  You  know  the  latest  achievement  of 
science  is  the  discovery  of  the  x-ray,  by  which  it  is 
possible  to  look  through  a  man's  body  so  that  the 
bones  are  visible." 

"How  strange  it  all  is!"  exclaimed  Walda,  who  was 
still  stroking  her  father's  hand. 

"The  wisdom  of  the  world  is  so  great  that  no  one 
man  can  understand  more  than  the  smallest  fragment 
of  it,"  averred  Gerson  Brandt. 

Walda  was  lost  in  thought  for  another  moment  or 
two. 

"Thou  makest  it  clear  to  me  that  we  people  of 
Zanah  must  seem  strange,  indeed,  to  thee."  She 
spoke  slowly.  "According  to  thy  standard,  I,  who 
am  thought  wise  enough  to  be  chosen  prophetess 
of  the  colony,  must  be  ignorant  and  childish.  Out 

102 


W  A  L  D  A 

in  the  world  they  would  jeer  at  me,  would  they 
not?" 

' '  Thou  wilt  have  a  wisdom  that  the  world  cannot 
give,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "Thou  shalt  be  spared 
from  contact  with  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness." 

"  Nay,  Gerson,  it  seemeth  to  me  there  must  be  good 
men  in  the  world.  Stephen  Everett,  the  stranger 
who  hath  come  to  us,  belongeth  not  to  those  who  are 
bound  to  the  idols  of  sin." 

Everett,  who  had  been  sitting  in  one  of  the  splint- 
bottomed  arm-chairs,  was  touched  by  the  girl's  artless 
words.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  responded  quickly: 

"According  to  Zanah's  standard  I  may  not  be  a 
good  man,  but  out  in  the  world  I  am  not  singled  out 
as  one  of  the  profligates.  I  hold  honor  dear.  You 
people  of  Zanah  may  trust  me." 

"We  have  trusted  thee,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "We 
have  prayed  much  over  thee,  and  it  hath  been  re 
vealed  to  us  that  thou  wert  sent  from  the  Lord.  We 
trust  thee  so  much  that  we  have  let  thee  speak  to 
Walda  Kellar,  who  hath  never  known  any  one  be 
longing  to  the  world." 

Gerson  Brandt  stood  up  and  faced  Everett.  An 
intensity  in  his  tone  gave  his  words  strong  emphasis. 
Wilhelm  Kellar  turned  his  head  on  his  pillow,  and  his 
sunken  eyes  stared  at  Everett  as  if  they  would  read 
his  uttermost  thoughts.  A  deep  flush  overspread 
Everett's  face,  and  the  realization  swept  over  him 

103 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  perhaps  he  might  have  it  in  his  power  to  disturb 
all  the  plans  of  Zanah  by  turning  Walda  Kellar's 
thoughts  away  from  what  he  regarded  as  the  super 
stition  of  the  colony.  Human  nature  is  contradictory, 
and  Gerson  Brandt's  words  presented  clearly  a  temp 
tation  that  had  but  vaguely  suggested  itself  to  him. 
He  could  appear  not  to  recognize  the  insinuation  con 
veyed  by  the  school-master,  and  therefore  he  replied, 
evasively : 

"My  intentions  are  good.  It  was  an  unselfish  mo 
tive  that  prompted  me  to  remain  in  the  colony.  When 
Wilhelm  Kellar  has  recovered  I  shall  go  away,  and 
you  will  all  forget  that  I  ever  came  to  Zanah." 

"Nay,  we  shall  not  forget  thee,"  said  Walda.  "We 
shall  always  be  grateful  to  thee." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by 
the  appearance  of  Karl  Weisel.  He  had  scarcely 
finished  his  greetings  when  Mother  Kaufmann  and 
Gretchen  Schneider  came  into  the  room. 

"  How  is  it  that  the  prophetess  of  Zanah  hath  time 
to  spend  in  the  company  of  men?"  asked  Mother 
Kaufmann.  "It  might  be  better  to  pass  the  days 
alone,  praying  and  reading  the  Bible." 

"How  is  it  that  Mother  Kaufmann  dares  to  speak 
thus  sharply  in  the  presence  of  the  woman  chosen 
to  guide  the  colony  of  Zanah?"  retorted  Gerson 
Brandt. 

"I  like  not  this  dispensation  which  permits  Walda 
104 


W  A  L  D  A 

Kellar  to  be  brought  under  the  influence  of  a  sinful 
man  of  the  world." 

Mother  Kaufmann  spoke  in  her  guttural  German. 
She  had  advanced  close  to  Gerson  Brandt. 

"The  colony  is  not  ruled  by  old  women,  and  thy 
likes  weigh  little  in  Zanah,"  declared  Karl  Weisel, 
whose  chair  had  been  drawn  near  to  the  one  chosen 
by  Gretchen  Schneider. 

"  If  Zanah  were  ruled  by  old  women  the  head  of  the 
thirteen  elders  would  not  be  coveting  the  daughter  of 
the  Herr  Doktor,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann,  losing  all 
caution  in  her  anger. 

Gretchen  Schneider's  thin  face  turned  a  livid  yellow, 
and  Karl  Weisel  sprang  forward  as  if  he  would  like  to 
grasp  the  woman  by  the  throat. 

"  Peace,  children  of  Zanah,"  commanded  Walda,  ris 
ing  in  majestic  indignation.  "Your  words  are  shame 
ful.  Put  away  from  you  the  spirit  of  contention." 

Wilhelm  Kellar  had  made  an  effort  to  speak,  but  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment  his  tongue  refused  to 
frame  the  words.  Everett,  looking  at  him,  saw  that 
there  were  beads  of  perspiration  on  his  brow  and  that 
he  looked  exhausted. 

"Send  these  people  out  of  the  room,"  he  said  to 
Gerson  Brandt.  "Wilhelm  Kellar  must  be  kept 
quiet."  He  went  to  the  table,  where  he  began  to 
mix  a  soothing  draught,  while  Gerson  Brandt  dis 
missed  the  three  visitors.  The  school  -  master  pre- 

105 


W  A  L  D  A 

ceded  them  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Walda  and  Ev 
erett  to  soothe  the  sick  man,  who  showed  signs  of 
extreme  exhaustion.  When  the  medicine  had  been 
administered,  Walda  drew  together  the  white  curtains 
and  placed  a  chintz  screen  before  the  window. 

"He  looketh  almost  as  if  death  were  near,"  she 
whispered  to  Everett. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  replied;  "he  will  soon  fall 
asleep,  and  when  he  awakens  he  will  be  as  well  as  he 
was  this  morning." 

The  girl  bent  over  her  father  to  watch  the  faint 
breathing.  The  old  man's  face  was  ghastly  in  its 
emaciation  and  pallor. 

"Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  yet?"  she  said,  entreat- 
ingly.  "  Sit  here  with  me  until  I  am  sure  he  is  slum 
bering  peacefully." 

Walda  took  her  place  on  an  old  oaken  bench  above 
which  hung  Gerson  Brandt's  book-shelves,  and  Ev 
erett  drew  one  of  the  chairs  close  to  the  table,  near  to 
the  place  where  Walda  sat.  Instead  of  taking  up  her 
knitting  the  girl  leaned  on  the  oaken  arm  of  the 
bench,  and  with  her  chin  in  her  hands  she  became 
lost  in  thought. 

"Through  thee  it  hath  become  plain  to  me  that  I 
am  different  from  the  women  out  there  in  the  world, ' ' 
she  said,  presently.  "Sometimes  there  hath  come 
over  me  a  great  fear  lest  one  day  I  shall  be  sorely 
tempted  to  go  forth  among  men  and  women  of  the 

106 


W  A  L  D  A 

earth.  In  the  days  of  my  rebellion,  when  I  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  calling  of  the  spirit,  I  dreamed  of  going 
away  from  Zanah.  Since  I  have  known  thee  I  have 
sometimes  faltered,  even  as  my  steps  were  being  led 
near  to  the  place  of  peace  which  will  be  revealed  to 
me  when  the  inspiration  cometh."  She  spoke  as  if 
she  were  thinking  aloud,  and  Everett  made  no  re 
sponse,  for  he  dared  not  say  the  words  that  came  to 
his  lips. 

"  Thou  knowest  the  world,"  she  continued.  "  Dost 
thou  think  that  I  could  ever  be  tempted  to  forget  my 
duty  to  the  people  of  Zanah  ?  Shall  I  be  able  always 
to  walk  near  to  God?" 

"It  is  said  that  there  is  a  supreme  temptation  for 
every  man  and  for  every  woman,"  said  Everett,  not 
daring  to  look  at  her.  "  You  may  be  spared  that,  or, 
if  it  comes  to  you,  you  may  be  strong  enough  to  resist 
it." 

"There  are  strange,  earthly  impulses  in  my  heart 
that  none  but  Gerson  Brandt  can  understand,"  she 
said.  "But  even  he  will  not  let  me  speak  of  them." 

"What  are  your  besetting  sins?"  Everett  asked, 
gently.  "Can't  you  confess  them  to  me?  Perhaps 
I  can  judge  more  fairly  than  any  one  in  Zanah,  be 
cause  mine  must  be  the  broader  view." 

Walda  cast  upon  him  a  look  of  such  trustfulness 
that  his  conscience  smote  him. 

"Stephen,  my  faith  in  the  devil  is  not  strong.  I 
107 


W  A  L  D  A 

like  not  to  think  of  the  power  of  evil,  for  truly  the 
world  seemeth  good  to  me.  When  I  walk  forth  into 
the  fields  something  in  me  maketh  me  to  love  the 
beauty  of  the  sky,  the  vast  stretches  of  rolling  prairie, 
and  the  shining  water  of  the  distant  lake.  The  bird- 
voices  seem  human  to  me,  and  yet  the  meadow-lark 
and  the  robin,  the  little  creatures  that  God  hath  made, 
appear  not  to  know  of  Satan's  rule." 

"Walda,  you  are  not  sinning.  The  Creator  of  all 
things  is  speaking  to  you  through  nature." 

"  Dost  thou  believe  that,  Stephen?" 

"Yes;  science  teaches  that.  Have  you  not  been 
taught  that  the  wood  which  burns  so  brightly  on 
your  hearth  is  giving  out  the  sunshine  stored  for  years, 
so  that  in  time  man  might  use  it?" 

Walda  listened  with  parted  lips. 

"Ah,  that  is  good,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  thou 
couldst  unlock  many  of  the  mysteries  that  disturb 
me.  Canst  thou  tell  how  the  grain  of  wheat  groweth 
when  it  is  put  into  the  ground?  Dost  thou  know  how 
the  egg  is  changed  into  the  nestling?" 

"Science  has  probed  the  secrets  of  the  seed  and  the 
egg,  and  it  has  discovered  much.  If  it  is  permitted,  I 
will  send  you  books  when  I  have  returned  to  the 
world." 

"Nay,  I  am  but  a  child  in  my  ignorance.  Canst 
thou  not  tell  me  about  the  mysteries  when  thou 
comest  here  to  this  room?" 

1 08 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  It  would  be  a  privilege  to  teach  you,"  said  Ever 
ett.  "We  might  have  our  first  lesson  to-morrow." 

"  I  have  not  told  thee  half  my  wayward  impulses," 
Walda  declared,  presently.  "When  strangers  have 
driven  to  the  village  I  have  caught  glimpses  of  women 
who  wore  gay  clothes,  and  I  have  coveted  the  gowns 
of  exquisite  color."  She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  with 
something  like  embarrassment.  "And,  Stephen,"  she 
added,  "  I  like  thy  garb  better  than  that  of  the  men 
of  Zanah.  Thou  hast  a  ring  on  thy  finger  that  I 
think  is  pretty,  and  when  thou  takest  from  thy  pocket 
thy  gold  watch  I  have  a  curiosity  to  look  at  it.  This 
shows  how  easily  I  am  tempted  by  earthly  gauds." 

Everett  could  not  repress  a  little  laugh,  but  seeing 
how  much  in  earnest  she  was,  he  said,  quite  sol 
emnly: 

' '  Walda,  these  are  not  sins.  Your  confessions  show 
that  you  are  a  woman  with  a  woman's  impulses.  Even 
a  prophetess  cannot  help  being  a  little  human." 

He  took  his  watch  from  his  pocket  and  placed  it  in 
her  lap.  Drawing  from  his  finger  a  ring  of  beautifully 
wrought  gold,  he  put  it  into  her  hand.  Walda's  face 
crimsoned. 

"Thou  must  not  persuade  me  to  put  it  on,"  she  half 
pleaded,  as  she  looked  at  the  ring;  and  then,  as  if  to 
prevent  herself  from  succumbing  to  temptation,  she 
passed  it  back  to  Everett.  The  watch  she  examined 
carefully.  "This  will  mark  the  seconds,  the  mo- 

109 


W  A  L  D  A 

ments,  and  the  hours  of  all  thy  life.  It  should  re 
mind  one  to  make  good  account  of  his  time." 

"It  has  marked  some  very  pleasant  moments  since 
I  came  to  Zanah,"  said  Everett,  and  his  tones  con 
veyed  to  Walda  a  dim  impression  that  made  her  sud 
denly  shy. 

Some  one  knocked  twice  on  the  door,  lifted  the 
latch,  and  entered.  It  was  Hans  Peter,  who  carried 
in  his  hand  a  package  of  books,  letters,  and  papers. 

"These  have  I  brought  from  the  post-office,"  said 
the  simple  one,  his  pale  eyes  wandering  from  Walda 
to  Everett  as  they  sat  close  together.  It  was  plain, 
even  to  a  fool,  that  their  conversation  had  been  of  a 
sort  interesting  only  to  themselves. 

"The  elders  ordered  that  thy  mail  be  given  into  thy 
hands,  and  I  have  followed  thee  here  that  I  might 
deliver  the  chronicles  of  the  wicked  world  into  thy 
keeping." 

Everett  thanked  the  simple  one,  who  made  no  move 
to  leave  the  room.  Hans  Peter  still  stood  playing 
with  his  queer  cap  and  balancing  himself  first  on  one 
foot  and  then  on  the  other. 

"Wouldst  thou  give  me  the  newspaper  when  thou 
hast  read  it?"  he  asked,  with  something  like  eager 
ness  in  his  tone. 

"No,  no,  Hans  Peter,  I  cannot  disregard  the  rules 
of  the  colony, "'Everett  said,  carelessly. 

"Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  fool  cannot  be  hurt?" 
no 


W  A  L  D  A 

asked  the  simple  one.  "He  hath  so  little  knowledge 
that  he  knoweth  not  folly  from  wisdom.  To  him  the 
wicked  appear  good  and  the  good  wicked." 

Everett's  mail  was  scattered  on  the  table  where  the 
simple  one  had  put  it.  Among  the  envelopes  the  man 
of  the  world  saw  one  that  enclosed  a  photograph. 

"This  may  be  a  picture  that  will  interest  you,"  he 
said.  "Will  you  pardon  me  if  I  open  it?"  He  tore 
off  the  envelope,  and  the  photograph  of  a  young  and 
beautiful  girl  was  disclosed.  The  hair  was  dressed  in 
rather  an  elaborate  fashion,  and  the  gown  was  slightly 
de'collete'. 

"This  is  my  young  cousin  Beatrice,"  he  remarked. 
"She  is  one  of  my  favorite  relatives.  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  her,  Walda." 

"  It  is  forbidden  in  Zanah  that  we  should  make  the 
image  of  anything  on  earth,"  declared  Walda,  turn 
ing  her  eyes  away  when  Everett  held  the  photograph 
towards  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said. 

The  fool  had  come  close  to  Everett's  chair,  and  he 
now  looked  over  the  stranger's  shoulder. 

"Is  she  called  beautiful?"  he  asked. 

" I  believe  she  is,"  said  Everett.  "Don't  you  think 
she  is  a  pretty  girl?" 

"I  like  her  hair  and  her  necklace,"  the  simple  one 
said.  "She  hath  no  cap  or  kerchief.  Yea,  she  is  like 
an  angel."  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  looking  from 

in 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  picture  to  Walda,  as  if  he  were  comparing  the 
two  faces,  and  he  added:  "She  is  not  so  fair  as  the 
prophetess  of  Zanah.  Dost  thou  think  her  more 
comely  than  Walda  Kellar?" 

"  Hush,  Hans  Peter;  thou  knowest  it  is  a  sin  to  see 
that  a  woman  is  fair  or  comely,"  warned  Walda. 

The  simple  one  shook  his  head  of  tangled,  straw- 
colored  hair,  and  answered: 

"Thou  forgettest  the  fool  knoweth  not  right  from 
wrong;  he  is  the  only  free  man  in  the  whole  colony." 
He  threw  his  cap  into  the  air,  but  his  stolid  face  be 
trayed  no  sign  that  he  might  be  exulting  over  his 
emancipation  from  the  laws  of  Zanah. 

"  Here,  gather  up  these  letters  and  papers  and  come 
with  me  to  the  inn,"  said  Everett.  He  thrust  the 
photograph  into  the  outside  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"Now,  indeed,  do  I  know  that  I  am  a  daughter  of 
Eve,"  said  Walda,  rising.  "To-day  it  hath  been  made 
plain  to  me  that  I  am  not  like  unto  the  women  of 
the  world.  I — I — I  would  have  one  glimpse  of  thy 
cousin.  Dost  thou  think  it  would  be  very  sinful  if  I 
looked  at  the  image  of  thy  kinswoman?" 

"  Sinful!  I  think  it  is  your  right  to  know  something 
of  the  women  outside  the  colony,"  Everett  declared. 
He  took  the  picture  from  his  pocket  and  put  it  into 
her  hand. 

Walda  studied  the  face  for  a  few  moments. 

"Thy  cousin  Beatrice  is  fair  indeed."  As  she  spoke 
112 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  faintest  sigh  accompanied  her  words.  "  Wilt  thou 
not  tell  me  something  of  her?"  she  asked.  "Doth  she 
wear  this  gown  and  this  necklace  when  she  worketh?" 

The  picture  of  his  cousin  Beatrice  working  was  so 
absurd  that  Everett  smiled. 

"This  is  the  sort  of  a  gown  my  cousin  wears  when 
she  goes  to  a  ball,"  he  explained. 

"A  ball!     What  is  a  ball?"  asked  Walda. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  party — an  assembly  of  men  and  women 
where  there  are  music  and  flowers  and  brilliant  lights." 

"And  what  do  the  people  do?  Do  they  sing  hymns 
and  pray  as  we  do  at  our  meetings?" 

Again  Everett  smiled.  The  spectacle  of  the  guests 
at  a  modern  ball  joining  in  hymns  and  prayers  would 
be  entertaining  indeed,  he  thought. 

"They  talk  and  dance,  Walda." 

"There  is  dancing  spoken  of  in  the  Bible,"  said 
Walda;  "but  the  elders  of  Zanah  have  told  the  people 
how  the  rite  hath  been  degraded  by  the  men  and 
women  of  the  world.  I  have  heard  that  dancing  is  no 
longer  a  religious  ceremony." 

"That  is  true,  indeed,"  said  Everett,  and  the  mem 
ory  of  some  of  the  stage-dancing  flashed  across  his 
brain. 

"What  is  thy  cousin's  work?"  Walda  inquired, 
again  studying  the  photograph. 

"Work?"  repeated  Everett.  "Why,  she  has  no 
work." 

8  113 


W  A  L  D  A 

"And  doth  all  thy  family  belong  to  the  drones?" 
Walda  asked.  "  How  is  it  that  out  in  the  world  some 
men  and  women  are  permitted  to  be  idle  while  others 
labor?" 

"Now,  Walda,  you  have  hit  upon  one  of  the  great 
social  problems.  Out  in  the  world  the  people  do  not 
work  for  the  common  good.  Selfishness  rules.  Some 
men  and  some  women  are  born  to  wealth,  and  some 
are  born  to  poverty." 

"Thou  meanest  that  some  men  are  like  Solomon 
and  others  are  like  the  beggars  that  lay  outside  the 
gates  of  Jerusalem?" 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Everett. 

' '  Art  thou  like  Solomon  ?  Hast  thou  gold  that  thou 
keepest  from  the  poor  and  hungry?"  Walda  placed 
the  picture  upon  the  table  and  withdrew  several  steps 
from  Everett. 

"I  am  not  like  Solomon,  Walda,"  Everett  replied, 
with  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  belonged  to  a 
useless  class. 

"But  you  have  money  so  that  you  live  without 
work?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Everett,  with  some  reluctance. 

"He  carrieth  much  silver  with  him,"  said  Hans 
Peter,  who  had  listened  intently  to  the  conversation. 
"He  hath  tossed  me  many  a  piece  when  I  have  run 
errands  for  him." 

"Oh,  thou  dost  give  away  thy  money?"  Walda's 
114 


WALDA 

tone  betrayed  her  relief  at  the  thought  that,  after  all, 
Everett  might  not  be  altogether  selfish. 

"Yes,  I  give  away  some  of  my  money,"  Stephen 
answered;  "but  I  have  not  done  half  the  good  with  it 
that  I  should.  Perhaps  I  may  learn  here  in  Zanah 
how  to  employ  my  time  and  my  money  to  better  ad 
vantage." 

"  Now,  indeed,  I  know  that  the  Lord  hath  sent  thee 
here  for  thine  own  good." 

"Sometimes  I  am  not  so  sure  of  it,  Walda,"  said 
Everett,  and,  turning  quickly,  he  took  up  his  hat.  He 
pushed  open  the  door,  motioned  to  the  simple  one  to 
pass  out  first,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  returned 
to  Walda's  side. 

"Don't  think  of  me  as  such  a  bad  man,"  he  said. 

"Nay,  there  is  something  in  my  heart  that  maketh 
me  believe  only  that  thou  art  wise  and  true." 

Quickly  he  left  the  room,  and  as  he  went  down  the 
stairs  he  reflected  that  one  of  the  first  steps  in  wisdom 
is  that  which  takes  a  man  away  from  a  great  tempta 
tion.  Walda,  standing  alone  by  the  table,  thought  of 
many  things,  and  then,  strangely  enough,  Piepmatz, 
looking  from  his  little  cage,  whistled  the  notes  of  the 
love-song  that  Everett  had  taught  him. 


XI 


ATER  leaving  Walda,  Stephen  Everett  walked  far 
out  into  the  country.  At  first  he  did  not  try  to 
analyze  his  thoughts.  He  felt  an  unwonted  buoy 
ancy  and  hope.  Between  him  and  the  brilliant  sky 
he  saw  the  face  of  the  future  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
He  felt  her  sweet  presence,  and  gradually  he  came 
into  a  knowledge  that  the  girl  was  gaining  a  master 
ing  power  over  him.  Because  he  was  more  or  less  of 
a  trifler  in  the  great  world  of  action,  he  had  been  will 
ing  to  stay  in  the  colony  long  enough  to  gain  some 
new  impressions.  At  first  the  girl  had  been  only  a 
central  figure  in  a  quaint  picture  that  seemed  to  be 
long  to  another  time  and  to  another  country.  There 
had  been  days  that  had  bored  him,  and  a  hundred 
times  he  had  repented  of  his  rash  pledge  that  held 
him  in  Zanah  for  an  indefinite  period.  Now  he  knew 
that  Walda  Kellar  had  become  to  him  more  than  a 
passing  acquaintance.  As  he  hastened  away  from  the 
village,  his  first  exultation  in  having  gained  from  her 
something  of  a  personal  recognition  led  him  to  think 
of  his  own  motives  in  attempting  to  win  what  he 
called  the  friendship  of  this  woman  of  Zanah. 

116 


W  A  L  D  A 

Beneath  all  his  aimlessness  and  indifference,  Ever 
ett  held  high  ideals  of  womanhood.  He  was  a  man 
who  cherished  chivalrous  traditions,  and  when  his 
footsteps  finally  brought  him  back  from  the  foot  of 
the  bluff  to  the  edge  of  the  little  lake,  that  now  re 
flected  a  purple  sky,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  ground 
to  think  seriously  of  his  intentions.  It  was  plain  to 
him  that  the  prophetess  of  Zanah  never  could  belong 
wholly  to  his  world.  The  memory  of  his  associations 
in  New  York  and  Newport  made  him  almost  doubt 
his  own  identity.  Visions  of  the  fashionable  and  friv 
olous  women  who  were  part  of  what  is  known  as 
American  society  presented  themselves  to  him.  He 
saw  the  gorgeous  gowns  and  flashing  jewels  of  matrons 
and  maids  whom  he  knew.  He  recalled  their  rather 
brilliant  conversation.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  pictured 
an  autumn  ball  at  Tuxedo — he  had  just  received  a 
letter  mentioning  a  great  entertainment  that  was  to 
take  place  that  very  evening — and  he  tried  to  imagine 
how  Walda  Kellar  would  appear  as  one  of  those  whom 
the  colony  condemned.  There  were  girls  belonging 
to  the  gayest  circles  of  Eastern  cities  who  were 
pleased  to  call  him  friend,  and  yet  he  valued  their 
favors  as  nothing  compared  with  the  esteem  that  he 
coveted  from  the  woman  of  Zanah.  In  thinking  of 
Walda  he  soothed  his  conscience  by  telling  himself 
that  esteem  was  the  word  which  described  the  interest 
he  wished  the  girl  to  feel  for  him.  And  then  the 

117 


W  A  L  D  A 

thought  came  to  him,  insistently,  that  he  was  playing 
the  part  of  a  contemptible  egotist,  and  that  he  was 
secretly  longing  to  awaken  in  the  heart  of  the  proph 
etess  of  Zanah  earthly  love  that  was  forbidden  to  her. 

It  is  a  human  trait  to  desire  what  is  beyond  one's 
reach,  and  Everett  acknowledged  to  himself  that  part 
of  the  charm  which  the  girl  of  the  colony  cast  upon 
him  was  due  to  her  elusiveness  and  to  her  ignorance 
of  all  that  pertained  to  what  were  the  every-day  ex 
periences  of  ordinary  women.  She  was  the  one  wom 
an  that  he  might  claim  unsullied  and  untouched  by 
love  for  any  other  man,  and  yet  with  a  sudden  sen 
sation  of  shame  he  realized  that  he  was  presumptuous 
to  feel  himself  entitled  to  a  love  that  would,  indeed, 
be  sent  from  heaven. 

Everett  took  from  his  pocket  some  of  the  letters 
that  he  had  received  during  the  week.  All  of  them 
told  of  events  that  formerly  had  interested  him.  The 
letters  took  him  back  to  his  own  place  in  the  broad 
life  of  America.  He  reasoned  with  himself  that  he 
might  leave  Zanah  within  a  week.  He  would  go  away 
without  striving  further  to  probe  the  mysterious  nat 
ure  of  the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  and  he  would  remem 
ber  his  sojourn  in  the  colony  as  one  of  the  many  pleas 
ant  incidents  in  his  varied  life.  Having  settled  the 
question  to  his  own  satisfaction,  he  experienced  a 
sensation  of  relief.  He  strolled  back  to  the  village. 
Entering  the  inn,  he  found  Diedrich  Werther  smoking 

118 


W  A  L  D  A 

a  pipe  behind  the  dog-eared  register,  which  had  not 
recorded  a  name  since  his  own  had  been  written  there. 
He  asked  some  questions  about  the  hunting,  and  the 
innkeeper  told  him  of  a  distant  pond  where  ducks 
were  plentiful.  Everett  announced  that  he  meant  to 
take  his  gun  out  early  the  next  morning,  and  he  asked 
whether  Hans  Peter  might  accompany  him.  Inci 
dentally  he  dropped  the  remark  that  he  expected  to 
leave  the  colony  within  a  few  days.  Then  he  bor 
rowed  the  old-fashioned  ink-horn  and  a  quill-pen, 
which  he  took  to  one  of  the  tables  in  a  far  corner  of 
the  main  room  of  the  inn.  Selecting  a  dozen  sheets 
of  yellow  paper  from  Diedrich  Werther's  store  of  sta 
tionery,  he  began  to  write  letters  to  the  friends  he  had 
almost  forgotten  for  a  fortnight. 

There  was  a  woman  in  Newport  to  whom  he  had 
meant  to  send  a  note.  He  thought  of  her  amusement 
when  she  would  receive  a  sample  of  Diedrich  Werther's 
yellow  stationery.  He  wrote  the  date  line,  and  then  he 
found  it  difficult  to  frame  a  graceful  and  conventional 
greeting  to  one  whom  he  had  quite  forgotten  for  many 
days.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  tried  to  im 
agine  how  this  woman  and  Walda  would  appear  if  he 
saw  them  together.  The  one  was  a  typical  product 
of  American  civilization,  that  educates  its  women 
broadly,  giving  them  the  liberty  to  mingle  freely  with 
the  greatest  of  many  lands — a  woman  born  to  wealth 
and  station,  one  who  knew  how  to  value  her  extraor- 

119 


W  A  L  D  A 

dinary  advantages,  and  how  to  make  the  most  of  them. 
She  was  still  young,  but  she  had  learned  much  of  the 
world,  for  she  had  travelled  widely  and  had  read 
books  of  every  class.  She  had  few  illusions.  He  re 
membered  that  her  broad  grasp  of  life  had  sometimes 
shocked  him.  She  had  studied  much  of  philosophy, 
and  had  but  desultory  connection  with  a  fashionable 
church.  She  was  witty,  brilliant,  fascinating.  She 
was  an  aristocrat,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  Her 
gowns  were  artistic  masterpieces.  A  picture  of  her 
as  he  had  seen  her  at  an  Easter  ball  came  back  to  him. 
He  recalled  the  shimmering  satin  and  the  frost  of  lace 
that  set  off  her  imperious  beauty.  That  night  he  had 
been  almost  persuaded  that  she  was  the  one  woman 
in  the  world.  For  a  moment  he  quite  forgot  Zanah. 
He  was  impatient  to  go  back  to  the  gay  world  that 
held  so  much  of  beauty  and  brightness.  It  was  a 
strange  vagary,  this  sojourn  in  the  colony.  He  dipped 
the  quill-pen  into  the  ink-horn  again.  He  drew  the 
ugly  sheet  of  yellow  paper  towards  him,  and  then 
he  heard  the  heavy  step  of  Mother  Werther  as  she 
hastened  across  the  great  kitchen  to  the  porch. 

"Walda,  where  art  thou  going?"  she  said. 

Before  he  knew  what  he  was  doing,  Everett  had 
dropped  his  pen  and  sauntered  out-of-doors  into  the 
little  square  where  Walda  had  paused  at  the  well.  She 
was  giving  a  cup  of  water  to  a  child,  and  at  first  she 
did  not  see  Everett.  She  was  standing  so  that  he. 

120 


W  A  L  D  A 

could  see  only  her  profile,  and  its  purity  of  outline 
made  him  say  to  himself  that  he  had  never  beheld  a 
face  so  clear-cut.  The  delicate  line  of  the  lips,  which 
were  always  firmly  closed,  denoted  a  strength  of  char 
acter  that  the  chin  rather  contradicted  in  its  full 
curve.  He  went  to  her,  and,  taking  the  cup  from  her 
hand,  hung  it  in  its  accustomed  place. 

"I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,  Walda,"  he  said,  with 
a  little  hesitation  as  he  spoke  her  name,  "for  I  am 
thinking  of  going  away  this  week — ' 

The  girl  gave  him  a  startled  look. 

"Nay,  tell  me  not  that,  Stephen  Everett,"  she  an 
swered.  "Truly,  thou  dost  not  mean  thou  wilt  leave 
Zanah  before  the  Untersuchung  ?" 

"Surely,  you  do  not  care  whether  I  go  or  stay?"  he 
said. 

The  prophetess  of  Zanah  knew  no  arts  of  coquetry. 
She  did  not  understand  the  significance  of  his  words, 
and  she  looked  into  his  face  with  clear,  untroubled 
eyes. 

"Ah,  but  I  do  care,"  she  exclaimed.  "My  father 
needs  thee  yet;  he  is  not  so  strong  to-day." 

She  turned  away  from  the  well  and  began  to  walk 
towards  the  bridge.  Everett  followed  her. 

"Your  father  will  get  on  without  me,"  he  declared, 
with  some  coldness,  for  the  girl's  unconscious  rebuff 
irritated  him. 

"Nay,  thou  seemest  to  hold  the  power  which  keep' 

121 


W  A  L  D  A 

eth  him  alive.  I  mean,  that  although  it  is  the  Lord 
that  hath  vouchsafed  to  spare  him,  thou  art  his  in 
strument.  My  faith  is  not  steadfast.  I  am  weak, 
indeed;  but  thou  hast  seemed  to  me  a  stay,  a  strong 
staff  upon  which  I  lean." 

"  It  is  good  to  know  that  you  count  me  even  a  little 
help."  An  intonation  in  his  voice  told  her  that  he 
felt  himself  aggrieved. 

"Thou  must  count  me  a  selfish  woman  of  Zanah," 
she  made  haste  to  say.  "Thou  hast  stayed  many 
days  here  in  the  colony,  and  neglected  thine  own 
work  that  thou  mightst  minister  to  my  father." 

"I  have  but  kept  my  pledge  to  you." 

"Thou  hast  my  gratitude,  Stephen."  She  paused 
on  the  bridge.  "I  cannot  estimate  what  sacrifice 
thou  hast  made  to  keep  thy  word,  but  thou  hast 
caused  me  to  know  that  all  who  belong  to  the  great 
world  are  not  wicked.  Verily,  Stephen,  thou  dost 
serve  the  Lord." 

Everett  did  not  reply  immediately.  He  had  a 
guilty  sense  of  misleading  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
He  knew  that  of  all  his  life  but  the  smallest  fragments 
had  been  given  to  service  of  any  sort.  A  sense  of 
regret  for  the  futile  years  he  had  spent  made  him  turn 
away,  for  the  girl  was  looking  at  him  with  a  searching 
gaze  that  made  him  uncomfortable. 

"The  darkness  is  falling;  I  must  hasten  on,"  said 
Walda,  but  she  did  not  move. 

122 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Where  were  you  going?"  asked  Everett.  "Let 
me  walk  with  you?" 

"It  is  not  the  custom  for  the  men  of  Zanah  to  talk 
with  the  women,  or  to  walk  with  them,"  said  Walda. 
"It  hath  been  decreed  by  the  elders  that  I  shall  go 
alone  at  this  hour  every  night  to  pray  at  the  grave  of 
Marta  Bachmann." 

"I  am  not  a  man  of  Zanah.  The  cemetery  is  half 
a  mile  from  here,  along  a  lonely  road.  Let  me  go 
with  you?"  he  pleaded,  and,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  he  took  her  permission  for  granted.  It  was 
the  hour  for  the  evening  meeting,  and  the  street  was 
quite  deserted,  so  he  knew  that  they  ran  little  risk  of 
being  seen  together  in  the  dusk  of  the  late  summer 
day. 

They  walked  slowly  up  the  hill  beyond  the  bridge. 
They  passed  the  school-house,  and  Walda  paused  to 
look  up  at  the  little  window  of  her  father's  room, 
whence  shone  a  candle-beam. 

"When  I  think  that  through  thy  help  I  still  have 
my  father,  there  is  so  much  of  gratitude  in  my  heart 
that  I  cannot  speak  it,"  she  said.  "Surely,  it  will  not 
be  long  before  he  is  again  able  to  mingle  with  the 
colony?" 

"  Not  very  long,  if  all  goes  well,"  said  Everett.  "  I 
hear  that  he  is  much  needed  by  the  elders  of  Zanah." 

"  Bad  luck  hath  come  to  the  mills  and  the  crops.  I 
fear  that  we  have  not  looked  steadfastly  to  the  Lord 

123 


W  A  L  D  A 

for  guidance.  I  pray  that  it  may  be  revealed  through 
me  what  we  shall  do  to  increase  the  prosperity  of 
Zanah." 

They  were  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  now,  and  had  en 
tered  the  wavering  road,  arched  with  oak  and  maple 
trees.  Everett  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes  while  he 
pondered  upon  some  method  by  which  he  could  lead 
the  conversation  away  from  general  topics.  While 
the  girl  betrayed  no  uneasiness  in  his  compan 
ionship,  he  knew  that  he  must  use  the  utmost  tact 
if  he  would  appeal  to  the  woman  instead  of  the 
prophetess. 

"And  when  you  are  inspired,  will  you  live  apart 
from  the  people  of  Zanah?"  he  said.  "You  will  par 
don  me,  but  I  have  often  wondered  just  what  your 
life  will  be.  Are  you  never  to  know  the  duties  and 
the  joys  that  belong  to  other  women?" 

"I  am  to  walk  close  to  God.  I  am  to  forget  self. 
I  am  to  serve  Zanah  all  my  life." 

Walda  spoke  in  a  solemn  tone,  and  her  absolute 
resignation  to  the  lot  that  appeared  to  the  man  of  the 
world  a  needless  and  ridiculous  sacrifice  awoke  a  spirit 
of  revolt  in  Everett's  heart. 

"Temptations  have  assailed  me,"  she  confessed, 
after  a  pause.  "Now  and  then  there  hath  been  a  rest 
lessness  within  me.  Thou  hast  sometimes  appeared 
to  me  as  one  sent  from  Satan,  for  thou  hast  painted 
the  great  world  most  alluringly." 

124 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda  drew  away  from  Everett,  and  he  could  feel 
that  she  was  looking  at  him  with  fear  and  distrust. 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  said  Everett.  "I  know 
that  you  live  near  to  heaven,  that  you  are  better  than 
the  women  I  know.  I  reverence  you,  I — I— 

Although  Everett  made  an  effort  to  speak  calmly, 
the  intensity  of  his  voice  and  manner  disturbed  the 
unfathomed  depths  of  Walda's  soul.  After  the  man 
ner  of  Zanah  she  instinctively  folded  her  hands  over 
her  bosom  with  a  gesture  that  signified  to  the  colonists 
the  warding  off  of  all  worldly  influences. 

"  Hush!"  she  said.  "Speak  not  thus  to  the  proph 
etess  of  Zanah." 

"I  am  not  speaking  to  the  prophetess  now,"  said 
Everett,  taking  a  quick  step  in  front  of  her.  "Walda, 
listen  to  me.  Don't  you  know  that  you  are  choosing 
for  your  life  loneliness  and  isolation?  I  think  of  you 
here  in  Zanah  in  the  years  that  are  coming,  and  I  can 
not  bear  to  feel  that  one  day  will  be  just  like  another 
until  the  end." 

"A  man  thou  art  who  hath  set  his  thoughts  on 
earth.  Stephen,  dost  thou  not  know  sorrow  and 
trouble  cannot  touch  me  when  I  walk  near  to  God? 
Hast  thy  spirit  never  been  lifted  up  above  all  that  be 
longs  to  self?  Hast  thou  never  been  near  to  heaven 
in  thy  thoughts?" 

"Never  until  now,"  said  Everett. 

Into  Walda's  face  came  a  new  light. 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Dost  thou  mean  that  thou  hast  learned  in  Zanah 
to  think  less  of  the  world  and  to  long  for  heaven?" 

The  man  looked  down  at  the  girl.  She  was  so  near 
him  that  the  light  breeze  blew  her  gown  against  him. 
He  stifled  a  longing  to  put  out  his  hand  to  touch  her. 

"Yes,  Walda,  I  can  say  with  all  truthfulness  that 
the  world  has  become  as  nothing  to  me,  and  that  I 
long  for  heaven." 

"Thou  hast  made  me  very  happy,  Stephen.  It 
hath  been  a  sorrow  to  me  to  know  that  thou  wert  not 
numbered  with  those  who  strive  to  earn  eternal  life." 

"Then  you  have  been  troubled  about  me?"  Everett 
questioned. 

The  girl  hesitated  a  moment. 

"I  have  hoped  that  I  might  meet  thee  in  the  other 
life,  where  there  are  none  of  the  barriers  that  divide 
men  and  women  who  would  serve  the  Lord." 

Everett  felt  the  blood  pour  out  of  his  heart.  The 
girl  had  made  a  strange  admission.  For  a  brief  mo 
ment  he  was  glad  with  all  the  joy  of  an  unexpected 
victory.  Exultant  words  came  to  his  lips,  but  when 
he  looked  at  Walda  he  felt  anew  the  awe  that  her  in 
nocence  and  her  spirituality  cast  upon  him.  She 
appeared  absolutely  unconscious  of  what  her  admis 
sion  meant  to  the  man  of  the  world.  She  moved  on 
ward.  They  emerged  from  the  wooded  road  and 
came  to  the  shore  of  the  placid  little  lake.  The  dis 
tant  bluffs  beyond  the  lake  were  dimly  outlined  in  the 

126 


W  A  L  D  A 

evening  shadows,  and  above  them  the  last  lingering 
purple  of  the  sunset  was  fading  in  the  sky.  In  the 
trees  behind  them  a  bird  trilled  the  fragment  of  a 
dream-song.  The  beauty  of  the  scene,  the  quiet  of 
the  night,  and  the  nearness  of  Walda  stirred  in  Ev 
erett  warring  impulses,  yet  he  was  dumb  before  the 
prophetess  of  Zanah.  The  girl's  attitude  of  perfect 
trust  in  him  forbade  him  to  take  advantage  of  the  op 
portunity  to  tell  her  that  his  heaven  was  not  the  one 
for  which  she  lived  and  worked,  and  yet  he  felt  almost 
cowardly  in  letting  her  believe  that  his  sudden  aspira 
tion  was  a  religious  experience. 

"Stephen,  I  would  have  thee  know  what  is  in  my 
heart,"  she  said,  fixing  her  clear  eyes  on  him.  "I 
would  have  thee  understand  that  I  am  but  a  weak 
woman  of  Zanah,  called  to  do  the  Lord's  will.  There 
have  been  times  when  Satan  tempted  me  with  long 
ing  for  the  things  forever  denied  to  the  people  of 
Zanah.  There  have  been  days  when  I  begged  that  I 
might  not  be  compelled  to  be  the  prophetess.  Often 
have  I  prayed  to  escape  this  work  of  the  Master,  but 
since  thou  earnest  to  Zanah  there  hath  been  a  new 
strength  in  me.  Thou  hast  made  me  see  many  things 
unto  which  mine  eyes  were  closed;  thou  hast  helped 
me  to  wisdom  not  vouchsafed  to  the  colony  of  Zanah. 
Since  one  day,  when  thou  didst  teach  me  to  look  from 
the  window  of  my  father's  room,  and  behold  the  beau 
ties  of  earth  and  sky,  peace  hath  come  to  me  from 

127 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  woods  and  fields  whenever  there  was  unrest  in  my 
soul.  Now  that  thou  hast  aspirations  for  heaven,  I 
am  assured  that  thou  art  one  sent  from  God  to  help 
the  least  of  his  children." 

"I  am  unworthy  to  be  your  teacher,"  Everett  fal 
tered. 

They  walked  on  until  they  came  to  the  high,  arched 
gate  of  the  graveyard.  Everett  unlatched  the  gate 
and  they  went  in  among  the  sunken  mounds,  each  of 
which  was  marked  by  a  flat  stone  bearing  the  simple 
name  of  some  colonist  who  had  passed  out  of  the  nar 
row  life  of  Zanah.  On  a  little  knoll,  separated  from 
the  other  graves,  was  one  over  which  a  willow-tree 
trailed  its  low  branches.  Towards  this  Walda  led  the 
way,  and  when  they  had  come  to  it  she  said  to  Ev 
erett  : 

"Thou  must  leave  me  now." 

"I  was  thinking  of  going  away  from  Zanah,"  said 
Everett,  with  a  sudden  memory  of  his  letters.  "When 
I  took  the  liberty  of  walking  with  you  to-night  it  was 
my  intention  to  say  good-bye  to  you,  Walda." 

The  girl  turned  on  him  a  glance  of  such  frank  regret 
that  he  asked  again: 

"Will  you  miss  me,  Walda?" 

"Missthee?"  she  repeated.  "Yea,  for  I  have  come 
to  count  thee  as  one  who  maketh  each  day  better  for 
me.  Thou  hast  become  like  unto  Gerson  Brandt  in 
thy  brotherly  care." 

128 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett  winced. 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  think  of  me  as  your 
brother,"  he  said.  "I  would  have  you  call  me 
friend." 

"  Nay,  friendship  is  denied  between  men  and  women 
in  Zanah.  Have  I  not  told  thee  that  before?  But 
surely  thou  wilt  not  go  away  before  the  Untersu- 
chung  ?" 

There  was  a  tone  of  pleading  in  the  girl's  voice. 

"Since  I  have  to  leave  Zanah,  since  I  have  to  go  out 
into  the  world,  where  I  shall  be  lost  to  you,  I  may  as 
well  go  now  as  at  any  future  time." 

"Nay,  wait  in  Zanah  until  after  the  spirit  of 
strength  hath  taken  possession  of  me.  When  I  am, 
indeed,  the  instrument  of  the  Lord,  then  can  I  see  thee 
turn  again  to  the  world.  Then  can  I  know,  indeed, 
it  will  be  well  with  me.  Stephen,  thou  hast  just  said 
thou  art  near  to  heaven,  and  I  would  send  thee  forth 
with  a  firm  faith.  From  now  until  the  day  of  the 
Untersuchung  I  will  pray  for  thee." 

"Your  wishes  shall  be  commands  to  me,  Walda. 
But  if  I  decide  to  stay  in  Zanah,  it  will  mean  much  to 
me.  There  may  be  days  when  I  shall  repent  that  I 
changed  my  mind."  He  stood  looking  at  her  for  a 
moment.  "  I  will  pledge  myself  to  wait  in  Zanah  un 
til  the  day  on  which  the  colonists  expect  to  recognize 
you  as  their  prophetess." 

"  Thou  hast  made  me  glad,  Stephen.  Since  it  is  for 
9  129 


W  A  L  D  A 

thy  good  to  stay  here,  I  can  no  longer  feel  that  I  am 
selfish." 

"Inasmuch  as  you  have  accepted  my  pledge,  you 
must  let  me  take  your  hand  as  a  token  of  my  prom 
ise,"  said  Everett.  In  the  intensity  of  his  longing 
there  was  such  a  compelling  force  that  Walda  made 
no  objection  when,  without  waiting  for  her  permis 
sion,  he  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  held  them  for  a 
moment.  A  deep  flush  suffused  her  pure  face,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  all  their  acquaintance  her  eyes  refused 
to  meet  his.  Her  hands  trembled,  and  with  a  sudden 
awakening  to  something  of  the  consciousness  that  first 
comes  to  every  woman  who  is  loved,  she  suddenly 
freed  herself. 

"Peace  be  with  thee  to-night,  Stephen,"  she  said. 
She  turned  quickly,  and  took  a  few  slow  steps  tow 
ards  the  grave  of  Marta  Bachmann.  Everett,  looking 
after  her,  beheld  a  strange  shape  rise  above  the  tomb. 
He  strode  forward  to  see  what  it  might  be,  and  in  the 
dim  light  recognized  Hans  Peter. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  demanded,  in  a 
stern  voice. 

The  fool  leisurely  seated  himself  upon  the  flat  stone 
and  answered: 

"The  simple  one  doth  not  have  to  account  to  any 
man  concerning  himself.  The  fool  can  do  no  harm. 
It  is  the  man  from  the  wicked  world  that  should  be 
under  watch  among  the  people  of  Zanah." 

130 


W  A  L  D  A 

Hans  Peter  swung  his  short  legs  over  the  edge  of 
the  gravestone ;  and  if  his  words  had  a  sinister  mean 
ing,  his  round,  immobile  face  betrayed  not  the  slight 
est  expression  of  intelligence.  He  took  from  his 
pocket  one  of  his  treasured  gourds,  calmly  opened 
his  knife,  and  made  a  few  marks. 

"Hans  Peter,  thou  shouldst  remember  to  treat  the 
stranger  within  our  gates  with  respect,"  said  Walda, 
reprovingly;  but  the  fool  seemed  not  to  hear  her. 

Everett  lingered  beside  the  girl,  as  if  he  could  not 
summon  courage  to  go  away. 

"Leave  me  here  alone,"  Walda  commanded,  gently. 
"Hans  Peter  will  take  me  back  to  the  village." 

As  Everett  latched  the  gate  to  the  cemetery  he 
looked  back  to  see  Walda  kneeling  at  the  grave, 
while  Hans  Peter,  who  had  withdrawn  to  a  little  dis 
tance,  lay  flat  upon  a  sunken  stone. 


XII 


GERSON  BRANDT  went  about  his  duties  with  a 
listless  air.  The  boys  who  gathered  every  morn 
ing  in  the  learning-school  noticed  that  he  was  less 
exacting  about  their  lessons,  and  that  often  his 
thoughts  appeared  far  away.  When  he  ascended  to 
the  little  platform,  after  returning  from  morning 
prayers  in  the  meeting-house,  he  looked  down  upon 
them  with  compassion  in  his  glance.  It  was  noticed 
that  his  thin  face  was  pinched  and  that  his  eyes  were 
sunken.  When  they  opened  their  word-books  for  the 
spelling-class  he  showed  slight  interest.  During  re 
cess  he  sat  with  his  head  resting  on  his  hands  and  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  old  desk.  One  day,  when  he  was 
even  more  preoccupied  than  usual,  Adolph  Schnei 
der  and  Karl  Weisel  visited  the  school  in  order  to  in 
quire  into  the  progress  of  the  boys  of  Zanah.  Ger- 
son  Brandt  called  his  pupils  to  order. 

"The  Herr  Doktor  would  speak  with  you,"  he  said. 

"Yea,  I  would  know  whether  you  are  diligent  in 
your  lessons,"  announced  Adolph  Schneider.  He 
pounded  on  the  floor  with  his  cane,  and  spoke  in  a 
tone  that  frightened  the  more  timid  of  the  children. 

132 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Why  was  Adam  cast  out  of  the  Garden  of  Eden?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  All  the  tow-head 
ed  boys,  with  arms  folded  across  their  breasts,  stared 
straight  ahead  of  them.  Karl  Weisel,  who  had  taken 
the  school-master's  chair,  tipped  it  back  against  the 
black-board,  twirled  his  thumbs,  and  stared  at  the 
rows  of  benches  with  something  like  a  sneer  on  his 
heavy  features.  The  school-master,  standing  on  the 
floor  beside  the  platform,  looked  out  of  the  nearest 
window  and  waited  patiently  for  the  tardy  answer. 

"Can  any  one  tell  me  why  Adam  was  cast  out  of  the 
Garden  of  Eden?" 

The  Herr  Doktor  repeated  his  question  in  a  thun 
dering  tone. 

"Because  he  ate  an  apple,"  piped  a  small  voice 
from  a  far  corner  of  the  room.  • 

"And  art  thou  taught  that  it  is  wicked  to  eat  an 
apple?" 

A  dozen  tow-heads  were  shaken  emphatically. 

"The  apple  grew  on  the  tree  of  knowledge."  It 
was  a  pale,  red-haired  child  who  spoke. 

"It  is  Johann  Werther  who  knows  about  the  tree 
of  knowledge,"  said  the  Herr  Doktor.  "At  the  gast- 
haus  Johann  sometimes  hath  a  glimpse  of  forbidden 
things." 

Scores  of  round  eyes  immediately  were  turned  upon 
Johann  with  glances  of  envy. 

"  But  did  man  fall  through  his  own  sinful  desires?" 
133 


W  A  L  D  A 

questioned  the  Herr  Doktor,  standing  very  straight, 
throwing  out  his  chest,  and  lifting  his  chin  out  of  his 
big  stock. 

"It  was  Eve  who  did  tempt  him,"  announced  a 
small  boy  that  sat  on  the  front  seat. 

"  Right.  Sin  came  into  the  world  through  a  wom 
an,  and  ever  since  then  the  man  who  would  reach 
heaven  hath  to  guard  against  the  wiles  of  the  temp 
tress.  If  it  had  not  been  for  a  woman,  we  might  now 
be  living  in  the  Garden  of  Eden." 

"Nay,  Brother  Schneider,  teach  not  that  women 
are  evil."  Gerson  Brandt  placed  one  thin  hand  on 
the  desk  and  turned  on  the  Herr  Doktor  a  face  in 
which  was  a  determined  look.  "It  is  meet  that  thou 
shouldst  tell  the  children  how  the  world  was  saved 
through  a  woman,  w^o  was  the  mother  of  Christ." 

"Gerson  Brandt,  interrupt  not  this  lesson.  I  have 
come  here  to  measure  the  knowledge  of  those  intrusted 
to  thy  care."  Adolph  Schneider  again  pounded  the 
floor  with  his  cane.  "Can  the  school  tell  me  nothing 
more  about  Eve's  fall?"  Adolph  Schneider  asked. 

In  the  back  part  of  the  room  rose  the  fool.  He  had 
in  his  hand  one  of  the  gourds  that  he  always  carried 
with  him. 

"The  Bible  teacheth  us  it  was  the  serpent  that  did 
tempt  Eve,"  he  said,  studying  the  gourd  as  if  he  were 
reading  from  it. 

"  Ja,  ja,"  said  the  Herr  Doktor;  "but  Eve,  being  a 
134 


W  A  L  D  A 

woman,  was  full  of  curiosity;  she  inclined  her  ear  to 
the  serpent." 

"And  Adam  did  incline  his  ear  to  Eve,"  the  simple 
one  announced.  "It  is  said  it  is  always  thus.  Even 
in  the  colony  I  have  noticed  that  the  men  are  keen, 
indeed,  to  hear  what  the  women  would  say." 

Something  like  a  smile  flitted  over  Karl  Weisel's 
face.  He  brought  his  chair  forward  on  its  four  legs, 
and  listened  for  what  was  coming. 

"Take  thy  seat.  How  darest  thou  comment  on  the 
men  and  women  of  Zanah  ?  Thou  art  the  simple  one 
who  cannot  separate  good  from  evil." 

The  fool  still  stood  in  his  place  with  the  gourd  in 
his  hand. 

"The  fool  hath  ears  that  he  can  hear;  he  hath  eyes 
that  he  can  see." 

"  But  what  he  seeth  and  heareth  hath  not  the  right 
meaning  to  him." 

"The  fool  hath  seen  Karl  Weisel,  head  of  the  thir 
teen  elders,  listen  to  the  words  of  Gretchen  Schneider, 
the  daughter  of  the  leader  of  Zanah,"  declared  the 
fool,  still  reading  from  his  gourd. 

"Silence!"  shouted  the  Herr  Doktor.  Turning  to 
Gerson  Brandt,  he  said:  "So  the  fool  hath  become  a 
spy.  He  is  more  dangerous  than  a  wise  man." 

"The  truth  is  not  in  him,"  said  Karl  Weisel,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet.  Hans  Peter  should  be  kept  in  con 
finement  where  he  cannot  speak  harmful  things." 

135 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  He  meaneth  nothing  wrong,"  said  Gerson  Brandt. 
"Be  merciful  to  the  simple  one." 

"The  main  object  in  coming  here  to-day  was  to  in 
struct  you  concerning  the  Untersuchung,"  said  Adolph 
Schneider,  when  Karl  Weisel  had  resumed  his  seat 
and  the  children  were  once  more  gazing  stolidly  in 
front  of  them.  "  I  hope  you  are  all  prepared  to  give 
an  account  of  your  souls  when  the  elders  of  Zanah 
shall  inquire  into  your  spiritual  condition.  From 
now  until  the  day  when  we  hope  to  behold  the  inspira 
tion  of  a  new  prophetess  I  want  you  all  to  think  over 
your  sins.  I  wonder  how  many  of  you  have  told  a  lie 
this  week."  Every  boy  in  the  school  looked  guilty. 
"I  should  like  to  have  all  who  have  spoken  only  the 
truth  stand  up  that  I  may  see  them." 

"Nay,  ask  not  that,"  said  the  school-master.  "I 
fear  lest  the  children  be  tempted  to  forget  their  short 
comings  and  to  act  a  falsehood  because  they  desire 
to  appear  well  before  thee." 

"Since  the  loss  of  thine  illuminated  Bible  thou  art 
tender-hearted  towards  liars,"  said  Karl  Weisel,  in  an 
undertone. 

"Thy  taunt  shouldst  cost  thee  dear,  Karl  Weisel, 
were  it  not  forbidden  in  Zanah  that  we  should  resent 
insult."  In  an  instant  the  gentle  school-master  was 
transformed.  He  stood  erect,  and  the  scorn  in  his 
tone  made  the  head  of  the  thirteen  elders  feel  that  the 
contempt  of  a  righteous  man  was  something  not  to  be 

136 


W  A  L  D  A 

easily  ignored.  The  Herr  Doktor  gave  the  boys  no 
opportunity  to  perjure  themselves. 

"I  want  you  to  prepare  for  the  Untersuchung  with 
prayer  and  fasting,"  he  said,  and  there  was  dismay 
upon  every  face  before  him. 

"  It  hath  been  shown  the  elders  of  Zanah  that  Wai- 
da  Kellar  is  to  be  the  instrument  of  the  Lord.  From 
her  lips  will  fall  words  of  wisdom.  You  all  know  her, 
for  she  hath  often  spoken  to  you.  She  hath  sung  to 
you  hymns  of  praise.  She  will  no  longer  come  among 
you,  for  she  must  live  apart,  but  it  will  be  revealed  to 
her  what  is  best  for  the  colony.  You  must  no  longer 
run  to  her  as  if  she  were  your  mother.  You  must 
bow  before  her.  You  must  no  longer  speak  unto 
her,  for  she  will  be  above  all  the  people  of  the 
colony." 

The  hand  of  Johann  Werther  was  raised,  and,  when 
he  had  been  given  permission  to  speak,  he  asked: 

"Are  all  women  daughters  of  Eve?" 

"Yea,  yea,"  declared  the  Herr  Doktor.  "Thou 
knowest  that  Eve  was  the  mother  of  all." 

"And  Walda  Kellar  is  to  be  the  instrument  of  the 
Lord?" 

' '  Why  ask  foolish  questions  ?  Thou  knowest  she  is 
to  be  the  inspired  one." 

"I  would  know  why  a  man  was  not  chosen  instead 
of  a  daughter  of  Eve?"  said  Johann. 

"Thou  shouldst  use  thy  silly  brain  for  less  mighty 


W  A  L  D  A 

questions,"  was  the  stern  reply.  Turning  to  the 
school-master  the  Herr  Doktor  gave  the  order: 

"Dismiss  thy  pupils."  Adding:  "We  would  talk 
with  thee." 

Gerson  Brandt  sent  the  boys  out-of-doors,  and  then 
waited  for  the  president  of  the  colony  to  speak. 

"  Brother  Weisel  and  I  are  dissatisfied  about  many 
things  in  the  colony,"  announced  Adolph  Schneider, 
taking  a  seat  on  the  platform.  "There  is  general  dis 
content.  If  the  Untersuchung  were  not  so  near,  we 
should  be  alarmed  for  the  peace  of  Zanah.  The  loss 
of  the  Bible  hath  cast  suspicion  upon  thee,  Brother 
Brandt.  It  is  not  my  desire  to  say  unpleasant  things 
to  thee,  but  in  Zanah  we  are  all  truthful.  Thou  wilt 
not  again  be  elected  as  elder  unless  thou  canst  trace 
the  Bible." 

"It  would  be  better  for  thee  to  say  that  Brother 
Brandt  cannot  be  elected  unless  he  decides  to  bring 
the  Bible  from  the  hidden  place  that  he  hath  found 
for  it,"  broke  in  Karl  Weisel. 

"Silence!"  commanded  the  school-master.  "Thou 
shalt  not  accuse  me  of  stealing  the  Bible  from  the 
colony  of  Zanah  and  then  of  denying  all  knowledge 
of  it.  Take  back  thy  cowardly  words." 

"It  is  the  custom  to  speak  what  we  hold  to  be  the 
truth,"  said  Karl  Weisel,  in  a  mocking  tone.  "I  be 
lieve  that  thou  knowest  where  that  Bible  is  secreted." 

"It  hath  been  said  that  men  always  suspect  other 
138 


W  A  L  D  A 

men  of  being  what  they  themselves  are,  and  so  I  make 
some  allowance  for  thy  words ;  but  thou  shalt  ask  my 
pardon."  Gerson  Brandt  spoke  calmly,  but  his  tone 
as  well  as  his  words  made  the  elder  cringe. 

"I  spoke  merely  for  thine  own  good.  It  were  bet 
ter  that  I  told  thee  what  I  thought  than  that  I 
thought  these  things  and  turned  to  thee  a  dissem 
bling  face." 

"Crave  my  pardon,"  said  Gerson  Brandt. 

"I  humiliate  myself  before  no  man,"  said  Karl 
Weisel.  "It  is  my  right  to  say  what  I  think." 

"It  is  not  thy  right  to  cast  aspersions  on  mine 
honor.  I  give  thee  one  more  chance  to  retract  thy 
base  charges." 

Karl  Weisel  put  his  fat  hands  into  his  deep  pockets, 
rose  from  his  chair,  and  walked  back  and  forth  upon 
the  platform. 

"This  quarrel  is  most  unseemly,"  remarked  Adolph 
Schneider,  who  had  been  leaning  on  his  cane  and  idly 
listening. 

"Speak!"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "Thou  shalt  not 
leave  this  room  until  thou  hast  taken  back  thy 
words." 

Karl  Weisel  laughed,  but  in  an  instant  the  school 
master  had  sprung  upon  the  platform.  He  clutched 
the  man  by  the  collar,  and,  with  the  strength  born  of 
a  tremendous  indignation,  he  shook  the  heavy  body  of 
Karl  Weisel  until  the  elder's  teeth  chattered. 

139 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Loose  thine  hold  upon  me!"  cried  Karl  Weisel, 
who  had  turned  pale  with  terror. 

Gerson  Brandt  flung  him  off.  He  knew  he  had  for 
gotten  all  the  precepts  of  the  colony,  but  again  the 
elder  laughed,  this  time  to  disguise  his  fright. 

"  I  give  thee  a  chance  to  defend  thyself,"  said  Ger 
son  Brandt.  "As  man  to  man  we  shall  fight  this 
out." 

Adolph  Schneider  put  himself  between  the  two  com 
batants,  but  Gerson  Brandt,  stepping  past  him,  drag 
ged  Karl  Weisel  to  the  open  space  beside  the  platform, 
and  there,  facing  him.  said: 

"I  give  thee  thy  last  opportunity  to  beg  my  par 
don." 

Karl  Weisel  did  not  open  his  lips.  Instead,  he  cov 
ertly  measured  the  distance  to  the  door,  and  with  a 
movement  of  unusual  quickness  turned  in  flight.  He 
had  not  gone  half  a  dozen  steps  before  Gerson  Brandt 
had  him  by  the  collar,  and,  dragging  him  back  to  his 
position,  waited  an  instant  for  him  to  recover  himself. 
Then  he  struck  a  blow  that  felled  the  elder. 

"Help!  Help!"  shouted  Adolph  Schneider,  who 
still  stood  upon  the  platform. 

At  first  the  prospect  of  a  fight  between  the  two  in 
fluential  men  of  the  colony  had  suggested  possibilities 
likely  to  redound  into  material  good  for  himself,  and 
he  had  been  content  to  play  the  part  of  listener  and 
spectator.  Now,  as  he  looked  at  Gerson  Brandt,  he  no 

140 


W  A  L  D  A 

longer  saw  the  school-master,  but  a  man  tall,  sinewy, 
and  muscular — a  man  in  whose  eye  flashed  anger  and 
whose  pose  revealed  an  unsuspected  strength. 

"Help!     Help!"  he  shouted  again. 

Gerson  Brandt  assisted  his  adversary  to  rise.  The 
elder  was  stunned ;  the  school-master  pushed  him  into 
a  chair,  where  he  sat  dazed  and  silent.  Just  then 
Hans  Peter  came  shuffling  in  at  the  door.  He  walked 
as  if  he  had  heard  an  ordinary  summons. 

"Didst  thou  call?"  he  asked,  addressing  the  Herr 
Doktor.  His  pale  eyes  rested  on  the  figure  of  Karl 
Weisel,  and  there  was  just  the  faintest  gleam  of  un 
derstanding  in  them.  Before  Adolph  Schneider  had 
a  chance  to  answer,  a  rustle  of  skirts  and  a  light  step 
was  heard  on  the  stair  that  led  from  Wilhelm  Kellar's 
room. 

"Hath  anything  gone  amiss  here?"  asked  Walda, 
throwing  open  the  door  and  standing  on  the  thresh 
old.  With  a  woman's  intuition  she  saw  that  there 
had  been  some  quarrel. 

"Be  not  alarmed,"  said  Gerson  Brandt,  walking 
down  a  side  aisle  at  the  end  of  the  long  benches.  "The 
elder,  Karl  Weisel,  accused  me  of  stealing  the  Bible 
and  of  bearing  false  witness  concerning  it.  The  man 
in  me  resented  the  insult.  He  refused  to  apologize, 
and  I  struck  him.  Even  now  I  am  sorry  that  I  should 
have  hurt  one  of  my  fellow-colonists." 

"Nay,  Gerson  Brandt,  thou  didst  forget  that  the 
141 


W  A  L  D  A 

Lord  hath  said,  'Vengeance  is  Mine,'"  cried  Walda, 
going  near  to  Gerson  Brandt.  "  It  is  not  like  thee  to 
let  human  passions  triumph." 

"This  will  cost  Gerson  Brandt  his  place  as  an  el 
der,"  declared  Karl  Weisel,  coming  to  himself  enough 
to  smooth  his  ruffled  hair  and  settle  his  loosened 
stock. 

"This  is  bad,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Adolph  Schneider. 
"In  all  my  years  of  colony  life  I  have  never  known 
one  man  in  Zanah  to  raise  his  hand  against  a  brother- 
colonist." 

"Surely  my  provocation  was  great,"  said  Gerson 
Brandt,  "but  I  am  sorry  that  I  allowed  anger  to  con 
trol  me  even  for  a  moment." 

"This  Very  night  shall  I  prefer  charges  against 
thee,"  Karl  Weisel  said,  rising  and  waving  his  hand 
with  a  threatening  gesture. 

"This  very  night  thou  shouldst  think  well  over  the 
quarrel,"  said  Walda,  advancing.  "Thou  knowest 
there  hath  been  wrong  on  both  sides.  Art  thou  will 
ing  to  confess  that  thou  hast  called  thy  brother  a  liar?" 
There  was  a  simple  majesty  in  the  pose  of  the  girl. 
For  the  moment  she  was  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
"  Beware  lest  thou  bring  disgrace  and  dishonor  to  the 
people  of  Zanah.  It  is  best  that  this  hour  be  forgot 
ten.  Blot  out  thine  enmities." 

"When  Gerson  Brandt  hath  explained  what  be 
came  of  the  Bible  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble  will  be 

142 


W  A  L  D  A 

removed,"  said  Karl  Weisel,  turning  away  from  the 
intense  gaze  of  the  girl. 

"Thou  knowest  the  Good  Book  is  lost.  Thou 
knowest  that  Gerson  Brandt  never  told  aught  but  the 
truth.  How  darest  thou  impute  evil  to  him?  He 
hath  been  always  one  of  the  most  faithful  men  in  all 
Zanah." 

Turning  to  the  school-master,  she  said: 

"Ah,  Gerson  Brandt,  I  have  prayed  much  about 
the  Bible.  Disturb  not  thyself.  I  have  faith  that  it 
will  be  found.  I  would  that  it  could  be  brought  to 
thee  to-day." 

In  the  back  of  the  school-room,  Hans  Peter,  who 
had  been  sitting  cross-legged  in  the  doorway,  pulled 
himself  to  his  feet. 

"  I  could  find  the  Bible;  it  is  not  far  away,"  he  said. 

"What  dost  thou  know  of  it?"  asked  the  Herr 
Doktor. 

"I  know  that  it  lieth  in  the  earth  beneath  a  great 
stone.  It  is  safe.  Have  no  fears  for  it."  Hans 
Peter  balanced  himself  first  on  one  bare  foot,  and  then 
on  the  other,  and  in  his  face  was  such  a  stupid  look 
that  Karl  Weisel  said: 

"Look  at  the  fool!  He  would  shield  the  school 
master,  to  whom  he  shows  a  dog's  devotion." 

"Dost  thou  really  know  where  the  Bible  is,  Hans 
Peter?"  asked  Walda,  laying  her  hand  upon  the  sim 
ple  one's  shoulder. 


W  A  L  D  A 

"I  have  not  said  I  knew.  I  said  I  knew  I  could  get 
it,"  answered  the  fool. 

"Nay,  dissemble  not,"  pleaded  Walda.  "I  know 
now  it  was  thou  that  didst  hide  the  Bible  from  the 
elders." 

The  boy  looked  down  to  the  floor. 

"Yea,  I  did  take  the  Bible  so  that  the  stranger  in 
Zanah  could  not  buy  it  with  his  silver.  It  was  for  thy 
sake  and  for  Gerson  Brandt's  that  I  took  it." 

"Listen  not  to  the  fool,"  said  Karl  Weisel.  "I 
tell  thee  he  would  shield  Gerson  Brandt." 

"There  is  a  likelihood  of  truth  in  his  words,"  de 
clared  the  Herr  Doktor.  Then,  in  a  thundering  tone, 
he  commanded:  "Bring  the  Bible  to  me." 

"It  may  not  be  easily  found,"  Hans  Peter  an 
swered,  still  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  floor. 

"Dare  not  try  to  put  me  off,"  thundered  Adolph 
Schneider,  shaking  his  cane  at  the  simple  one.  ' '  With 
out  more  ado,  fetch  it  to  me." 

All  this  time  Gerson  Brandt  had  been  standing 
silent  and  sad.  He  now  waited  expectantly  for  the 
last  answer.  He  knew  that  his  precious  book  was, 
indeed,  in  jeopardy. 

Hans  Peter  gently  took  Walda's  hand  from  his 
shoulder,  and,  backing  to  the  door,  said,  rolling  his 
great  head  from  side  to  side: 

"The  fool  hath  no  memory.  If  he  would  know  the 
thing  that  happened  yesterday  he  must  mark  upon  a 

144 


W  A  L  D  A 

gourd  words  that  will  bring  back  to  his  poor  mind 
what  is  past." 

"Let  him  not  make  terms;  let  him  not  trade  upon 
his  folly,"  interposed  Karl  Weisel. 

"Thou  hast  not  forgotten  where  the  Bible  is  hid 
den?"  inquired  Walda,  very  gently. 

"  I  did  bury  the  gourd  that  told  me  where  the  Bible 
is,  and  upon  another  gourd  I  marked  where  that 
gourd  was  hidden." 

"Quick!  We  care  not  about  thy  lunatic  pastimes. 
Bring  the  Bible!"  shouted  the  Herr  Doktor,  overcome 
with  impatience. 

"And  the  second  gourd  I  carried  in  my  pocket  until 
one  day,  when  I  was  marking  on  it  something  the 
stranger  had  told  me,  the  Herr  Doktor  struck  it  out 
of  my  hand  with  his  cane  and  put  his  heel  upon  it. 
The  Bible  is  safe,  but  it  cannot  be  found  without  long 
search." 

When  the  simple  one  had  made  his  tantalizing 
speech,  the  school-master  spoke  in  a  quiet  tone: 

"  Hans  Peter,  thou  knowest  that  the  precious  book 
may  be  spoiled  in  the  ground.  Try  to  think  where  it 
is." 

"Nay,  I  tell  thee  it  is  safe,  for  it  is  wrapped  in  the 
oil-skin  in  which  thou  didst  keep  it,  and  it  is  nailed  in 
a  great  box  that  is  covered  with  another  box.  I  did 
work  upon  the  boxes  a  large  part  of  the  night  before  I 
buried  the  Bible." 

145 


W  A  L  D  A 

"The  village  fool  is  not  to  be  believed,"  said  Karl 
Weisel,  "but  he  ought  to  be  locked  up  until  he  can  be 
made  to  confess  that  what  he  is  telling  is  all  a  lie." 

The  Herr  Doktor  descended  from  the  platform,  and, 
going  to  the  door,  clutched  Hans  Peter  by  the  shoul 
der.  "Thou  shalt  have  a  chance  to  collect  thy  wits, 
my  boy.  Come  with  me.  In  a  dark  room  in  the 
cellar  of  the  gasthaus  thou  canst  stay  until  thou  hast 
some  memory  about  the  Bible." 

"  Before  we  part  it  is  well  that  we  all  agree  to  for 
get  this  misunderstanding,"  said  Walda.  "  I  am  sure 
Hans  Peter  will  find  the  Bible,  and  that  we  can  cast 
out  all  anxiety  concerning  it." 

Hans  Peter  made  no  reply.  He  stood  with  both 
hands  thrust  into  his  capacious  pockets.  The  Herr 
Doktor  pulled  him  through  the  door,  and,  followed  by 
Karl  Weisel,  he  went  down  the  street  towards  the  inn. 

Gerson  Brandt  turned  a  white  and  troubled  face  to 
Walda  when  they  were  left  alone  together. 

"Thou  hast  seen  me  in  the  clutch  of  an  earthly  pas 
sion,"  he  said.  "Thou  knowest  now  how  unworthy 
I  am  to  be  counted  as  a  counsellor  of  a  prophetess.  I 
have  naught  to  say  in  extenuation,  except  that  in  man 
human  impulses  often  triumph  over  the  divine  aspira 
tions.  Canst  thou  forget  that  I  have  thus  resented 
an  insult?" 

Walda  came  closer  to  him. 

"Gerson  Brandt,  it  may  be  wicked  of  me,  but  some- 
146 


W  A  L  D  A 

how  I  like  thee  better  because  thou  hast  demanded 
that  Karl  Weisel  retract  his  sinful  words.  He  hath 
called  his  brother  a  liar,  and  God  will  judge  him  for 
that." 

"And  I  should  have  remembered  that  I  am  not  the 
judge,"  said  Gerson  Brandt.  "I  should  not  have  let 
myself  take  vengeance  into  mine  own  hand.  When 
thou  art  the  prophetess  thou  wilt  become  my  teacher, 
and,  Walda,  I  am  half  glad  I  shall  need  thine  aid  to 
overcome  sin." 

"Thou  hast  been  my  teacher  so  long  it  seemeth  I 
could  never  have  any  wisdom  greater  than  thine." 

Gerson  Brandt  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"Being  a  woman,  thou  hast  wisdom  and  power  of 
which  thou  little  dreamest,"  he  said. 

"  If  I  have  aught  of  wisdom,  it  is  because  thou  hast 
been  my  guide  ever  since  I  was  a  child.  Gerson 
Brandt,  thou  hast  been  nearer  to  me  than  my  father; 
thou  hast  been  more  to  me  than  all  the  brothers  in  the 
colony." 

"  It  hath  always  seemed,  Walda,  that  thou  wert  sent 
to  reconcile  me  to  life  in  Zanah.  Thy  presence  hath 
helped  me  to  overcome  all  rebellion.  Having  prayed 
for  the  time  of  thine  inspiration,  it  is  a  struggle  for  me 
to  give  thee  up.  It  is  as  if  I  were  losing  thee,  even 
though  thou  wilt  still  be  in  the  colony." 

"Nay,  Gerson,  it  seemeth  to  me  that  when  the  light 
of  inspiration  cometh  to  me  thou  must  share  it,  for, 

147 


W  A  L  D  A 

after  all,  it  is  thy  knowledge  and  thy  faith  that  is  in 
me.  There  hath  come  to  me  lately  something  of  the 
illumination  thou  hast  told  me  to  expect,  Gerson 
Brandt.  There  are  days  when  it  is  as  if  I  stood  on  the 
threshold  of  heaven.  My  heart  is  lifted  up  with  a 
strange  joy.  I  hear  harmony  in  the  rustling  of  the 
leaves  in  the  trees  and  the  flowing  of  the  water  under 
the  bridge  and  the  faint  night-sounds  that  come  to 
mine  ears  when  the  village  hath  gone  to  sleep.  Long 
after  the  curfew-bell  hath  sounded  I  open  my  case 
ment  and  look  out  into  the  sky.  It  is  then  I  feel  the 
vastness  of  the  universe,  and  yet  know  that  God  hath 
not  forgotten  me." 

As  Walda  spoke  her  face  was  radiant  with  new  joy, 
and  Gerson  Brandt  knew  she  was  even  then  far  re 
moved  from  him. 

"Thou  lookest  from  thy  casement  every  night? 
Dost  thou  gaze  at  the  moon?"  he  asked. 

"Yea,  Gerson  Brandt,  I  look  long  at  the  moon." 

"Walda,  that  is  a  habit  maidens  have  when  they 
think  not  of  God  but  of  man.  Thou  hast  in  thy 
thought  no  human  being?" 

"There  is  often  a  light  in  the  inn;  it  shineth  from 
the  window  of  him  whom  we  not  long  ago  called 
the  stranger  in  Zanah.  It  bringeth  him  into  my 
mind,  and  I  thank  God  for  his  coming  to  the 
colony." 

Walda's  words  smote  the  school-master.  A  faint 
148 


W  A  L  D  A 

color  came  into  his  thin  cheeks.     He  steadied  himself 
against  the  desk. 

"It  is  not  thy  duty  to  pray  for  the  stranger.  The 
elders  can  do  that,"  he  declared. 

"Nay,  but  he  hath  helped  me  much.  He  hath 
brought  me  strength." 

"  Beware  lest  that  strength  become  thy  weakness." 
There  was  a  tremor  in  Gerson  Brandt's  voice,  and  his 
manner  puzzled  the  girl. 

"Thou  dost  speak  in  riddles,"  she  said.  "Thou 
knowest  his  world  could  not  touch  me.  When  I  gaze 
from  my  window  I  am  glad,  indeed,  that  the  bluffs 
shut  me  out  from  all  the  wickedness  of  the  life  beyond 
the  colony." 

"I  beg  thy  pardon,  Walda.  It  was  an  unworthy 
suspicion  that  crossed  my  mind.  Surely  to-day  Satan 
is  close  to  me.  And  when  thou  gazest  at  the  moon 
dost  thou  think  of  any  one  else?" 

"  Of  my  father,  Gerson  Brandt,  and  always  of  thee." 

"And  how  do  I  come  to  thee  in  thy  thoughts, 
Walda?" 

"Thou  comest  as  one  that  is  ever  dear  to  me.  Since 
thou  didst  first  take  me  on  thy  knee  thou  hast  shared 
with  my  father  all  the  earthly  love  of  my  heart.  Have 
I  not  often  told  thee  so?" 

"Thou  didst  never  think  of  me  as  nearer  to  thine 
own  age  than  thy  father?  Do  I  always  appear  so  old 
to  thee?" 

149 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Truly,  them  dost  seem  like  my  father."  In  her 
voice  was  an  infinite  tenderness,  and  the  school-mas 
ter,  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  answered: 

"And  yet  I  am  but  fifteen  years  thy  senior." 

"  But  thou  lovest  me  as  if  I  were  thy  daughter.  I 
have  always  felt  that-  thou  didst  give  me  something 
more  than  the  neighborly  regard  in  which  all  the  peo 
ple  of  Zanah  hold  one  another." 

Gerson  Brandt  made  no  answer. 

"Thou  dost  love  me  as  if  I  were  thy  daughter?" 
she  repeated. 

"Thou  hast  forever  a  place  in  the  sanctuary  of  my 
heart,  Walda." 

The  school  -  master  and  the  prophetess  of  Zanah 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  a  brief  moment. 

"  Then  I  know  that  thou  wilt  always  pray  for  me — 
that  thou  wilt  always  keep  me  safe  from  all  worldly 
temptations." 

"Yea,  thou  wilt  always  have  my  care.  Thou  wilt 
always  command  my  services  and  my  prayers.  To 
day  I  feel  humble,  indeed,  because  I  lost  my  self- 
control,  but  I  shall  strive  always  to  be  worthy  to  be 
counted  as  one  who  walketh  near  to  the  prophetess 
of  Zanah.  Walda,  to-day  I  am  weak  indeed.  I  feel 
how  much  I  shall  need  divine  strength  in  the  years  to 
come.  My  way  is  a  lonely  one.  It  is  said  that  after 
the  inspiration  is  vouchsafed  to  a  prophetess  her  soul 
withdraws  itself  from  all  human  companionship,  and 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  even  if  it  were  not  the  custom  to  separate  the 
instrument  of  the  Lord  from  the  colonists  of  Zanah, 
there  would  be  naught  in  common  between  her  and 
those  who  try  to  serve  God  in  humbler  ways.  Lately, 
Walda,  I  have  looked  forward  with  a  feeling  that  the 
years  without  thee  will  be  weary.  When  thou  art  the 
prophetess  there  will  be  none  with  whom  I  can  speak 
of  the  dreams  I  have  shared  with  thee." 

"Thy  dreams,  as  thou  callest  them,  first  made  me 
feel  the  mysteries  of  life.  Gerson  Brandt,  it  was  thou 
who  didst  awaken  my  soul ;  it  was  thou  who  didst  turn 
my  heart  to  God,  and  now,  verily,  thou  wilt  not  be  sor 
rowful  when  my  day  of  inspiration  comes?" 

"To-day  there  is  so  much  of  self  victorious  in  me 
that  I  know  the  day  of  the  Untersuchung  will  make 
me  sad.  It  was  my  intention  on  that  day  to  give  thee 
the  Bible  that  is  lost.  For  many  months  thou  know- 
est  I  worked  upon  it,  making  the  letters  beautiful  for 
thine  eyes,  and  it  was  a  solace  to  me  to  feel,  every  day 
as  I  turned  the  pages  upon  which  I  had  worked  with 
many  a  prayer  and  blessing  for  thy  welfare,  that  thou 
wouldst  take  pleasure  in  its  beauty." 

"And  was  that  Bible  for  me,  Gerson?  On  the  last 
day  when  thou  didst  give  it  to  me  to  read  before  the 
school  I  did  covet  it." 

"I  did  think  that  I  should  never  tell  thee,  and  it 
was  a  sore  trouble  when  Adolph  Schneider  demanded 
that  it  be  sold.  I  tell  thee  this  because,  as  I  have 


W  A  L  D  A 

said  to-day,  I  am  weak,  and  I  would  say  something 
in  extenuation  of  my  unseemly  conduct  towards  the 
head  of  the  thirteen  elders." 

"And  I  am  very  human,  for  I  am  glad  that  the  book 
is  lost,  and  that  the  elders  had  no  chance  to  take  it 
from  thee." 

"I  could  not  endure  the  thought  that  the  stranger 
from  the  outside  world  should  possess  what  I  had 
come  to  believe  belonged  to  thee." 

Walda  turned  her  head  away  a  moment.  Then  she 
answered : 

"I  want  the  Bible  very  much  indeed;  but,  Gerson 
Brandt,  if  any  stranger  were  to  have  it,  it  had  been 
better  it  should  go  to  Stephen  Everett  than  to  any 
one  else." 

A  look  of  pain  came  into  the  school-master's  face. 
His  eyes  sought  the  girl's  with  a  glance  that  strove  to 
read  her  heart. 

"And  I  would  rather  that  the  Bible  be  destroyed, 
that  its  pages  be  scattered  and  its  letters  obliterated, 
than  that  Stephen  Everett  should  call  it  his  own." 

"Why,  Gerson  Brandt,  thou  speakest  with  much 
stress.  Thou  art,  indeed,  unlike  thyself  to-day." 

"Perhaps  my  real  self  is  uppermost,  Walda,  and  the 
school  -  master,  who  was  always  so  submissive  and 
passive,  is  not  the  actual  man." 

"Peace  to  thy  heart."  Walda  came  close  to  him. 
"  Let  me  tell  thee  that  I  should  have  held  the  Bible  as 

152 


W  A  L  D  A 

a  precious  token  from  thee,  and  that  I  am  grateful  for 
the  kindly  thought  with  which  thou  hast  wrought  it 
for  me." 

Tears  were  in  her  eyes.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  as 
if  waiting  for  an  answer.  Gerson  Brandt,  with  arms 
folded  across  his  breast,  pressed  his  lips  tightly  to 
gether  lest  he  might  speak  with  the  fervor  of  one  who 
covets  from  God  a  supreme  gift  that  must  be  forever 
beyond  reach. 


XIII 

WHEN  Hans  Peter  was  led  away  from  the  school 
room  after  his  confession  concerning  the  Bible, 
Karl  Weisel  and  Adolph  Schneider  conducted  him 
towards  the  inn.  The  Herr  Doktor,  thoroughly  up 
set  from  his  usual  phlegmatic  tranquillity,  held  the 
ear  of  the  simple  one  in  a  pinching  grasp.  With  a 
speed  that  caused  the  colony  president  to  pant,  the 
three  descended  the  hill  on  their  way  to  the  inn. 

"Hans  Peter  should  be  locked  up  until  he  confess- 
eth  that  he  hath  borne  false  witness,"  said  Karl 
Weisel. 

"  I  believe  he  knoweth  where  the  Holy  Book  is  hid 
den,"  answered  Adolph  Schneider.  "We  will  lock 
him  up  where  he  can  have  a  chance  to  think  over  his 
transgressions." 

Hans  Peter,  dragging  slowly  after  the  Herr  Doktor, 
who  every  now  and  then  jerked  his  head,  appeared 
not  to  hear  what  was  said  about  him. 

"Tell  us  now  what  thou  didst  mean  by  thy  foolish 
lie  about  the  Bible,"  urged  the  head  of  the  thirteen 
elders. 

"I  spoke  the  truth.  But  not  every  one  knoweth 
'54 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  truth  to  understand  it,"  answered  the  simple 
one. 

"He  still  defieth  us,"  exclaimed  Karl  Weisel.  Then, 
giving  Hans  Peter  a  cuff,  he  added,  addressing  him: 

"Thou  shalt  spend  the  night  in  the  cellar  of  the 
gastkaus,  and  if  thou  dost  not  speak  so  as  to  make  it 
clear  that  thou  dost  share  all  thy  knowledge  with  the 
elders  and  those  in  authority,  thou  shalt  be  put  in  the 
stocks." 

"Threaten  not  too  hastily,  Brother  Weisel,"  said 
the  Herr  Doktor.  "Thou  knowest  the  stocks  have 
not  been  used  these  ten  years,  and  the  dismembered 
timbers  pertaining  to  it  are  stored  in  the  hay-loft  of 
the  gasthaus  barn." 

"The  stocks  can  be  put  together  easily  enough," 
muttered  Karl  Weisel;  and  Hans  Peter,  turning  his 
head  as  much  as  Adolph  Schneider's  hold  upon  his 
ear  permitted,  said: 

"The  village  fool  feareth  no  punishment  thou  canst 
devise.  Ye  men  of  Zanah  shall  never  get  possession 
of  Gerson  Brandt's  Bible." 

"Hear!  He  defieth  us!"  cried  Karl  Weisel;  and 
Adolph  Schneider  responded  with  an  angry  grunt,  that 
he  punctuated  with  a  superfluous  pinch  administered 
to  Hans  Peter's  ear. 

They  reached  the  inn,  where  Diedrich  Werther  re 
ceived  them  with  his  customary  imperturbability. 

"Hast  thou  a  place  in  the  cellar  where  thou  canst 


W  A  L  D  A 

»  lock  up  this  culprit?"  Karl  Weisel  inquired.  At  the 
same  time  the  Herr  Doktor  pushed  the  simple  one 
into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"There  is  a  heavy  bolt  on  the  potato-bin,"  said 
Werther,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  leaning 
upon  the  dog-eared  register. 

"Conduct  Hans  Peter  to  it,  and  be  his  jailer  until 
to-morrow  morning.  Mind  that  he  hath  no  supper." 

"What  is  Hans  Peter's  offence?"  Mother  Werther 
asked,  opening  the  door  from  the  kitchen  and  putting 
her  black-capped  head  into  the  room.  "Tut,  tut,  my 
boy!  I  hope  thou  hast  not  been  exhibiting  thy  folly 
in  some  hazardous  manner." 

Hans  Peter  put  his  hands  into  his  deep  pockets, 
hung  his  head,  and  made  no  reply. 

"The  simple  one  is  to  be  locked  in  your  potato-bin 
until  he  tells  the  truth  about  the  Bible,"  announced 
the  Herr  Doktor. 

"Nay,  be  not  too  severe  with  him.  Hans  Peter 
will  tell — wilt  not  thou,  boy?"  said  Mother  Werther, 
coaxingly. 

But  the  simple  one  only  shook  his  round  head. 

"You  may  have  to  stay  down  there  in  the  darkness 
with  the  rats  for  a  week,"  said  Karl  Weisel. 

"Yea,  thou  shalt  not  baffle  the  elders  of  Zanah," 
declared  the  Herr  Doktor.  "It  will  be  the  cellar  or 
the  stocks  until  thou  dost  wag  thy  stubborn  tongue 
to  good  purpose." 

'5* 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Now  thou  art  speaking  wisely,  Brother  Schnei 
der,"  said  Karl  Weisel.  "Why  dost  thou  not  order 
Diedrich  Werther  to  conduct  the  fool  to  his  prison?" 

"Take  him  away,"  commanded  the  Herr  Doktor. 

"Thou  knowest  I  permit  no  rats  in  the  gasthaus 
cellar,"  said  Mother  Werther,  shaking  her  head  indig 
nantly  at  Karl  Weisel;  and  edging  up  to  Hans  Peter, 
she  bent  low  to  whisper:  "Thou  shalt  have  the  best 
supper  I  can  carry  to  thee." 

"Verily,  even  Mother  Werther  appears  to  be  en 
couraging  sedition  in  Zanah,"  remarked  Karl  Weisel, 
pointing  to  the  innkeeper's  wife  with  a  backward 
movement  of  his  thumb. 

"  If  there  is  sedition  in  Zanah,  it  is  thou  that  sowest 
discontent."  Mother  Werther  put  her  arms  on  her 
broad  hips,  and  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  such 
contempt  in  her  kindly  face  that  the  head  of  the  thir 
teen  elders  slunk  aside  to  a  chair  behind  the  high 
counter. 

"I  will  take  Hans  Peter  to  the  potato-bin,  and  he 
shall  have  a  clean  straw  tick  to  lie  on,"  she  said. 
"Come,  Hans  Peter." 

Mother  Werther  put  a  hand  on  the  simple  one's 
shoulder  and  walked  out  into  the  kitchen  with  him. 
Presently  they  were  heard  descending  the  stairs,  and 
then  their  voices  sounded  from  the  distant  place  of 
imprisonment. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  Everett  returned  to  the 
157 


W  A  L  D  A 

inn  after  a  walk  far  a-field.  At  supper-time  he  had 
asked  about  Hans  Peter,  but  he  had  learned  nothing 
of  the  whereabouts  of  the  simple  one.  He  had  a  faint 
idea  that  he  ought  to  search  for  the  fool,  but  his 
thoughts  were  absorbed  by  Walda.  He  spoke  to 
Diedrich  Werther,  who  dozed  in  an  arm-chair,  and  the 
landlord  slowly  lighted  a  tall  tallow  dip  and  passed  it 
to  Everett.  He  lingered  to  ask  whether  any  message 
had  come  from  Wilhelm  Kellar.  The  landlord  replied 
that  the  school  -  master  had  stopped  to  ask  for  the 
stranger  in  Zanah,  but  it  was  nothing  urgent,  for 
Gerson  Brandt  had  told  how  fast  Wilhelm  Kellar  was 
gaining  strength. 

Everett  stumbled  along  the  dark,  narrow  passage 
that  led  to  his  room.  A  draught  blew  out  his  candle, 
which  he  did  not  relight.  Feeling  his  way  to  his  bed, 
he  threw  himself  down  upon  it  and  tried  to  think 
what  course  was  wisest  for  him  to  pursue  in  winning 
Walda.  He  was  not  blind  to  the  many  obstacles  be 
tween  them,  but  he  was  a  man  who  was  accustomed 
to  obtain  what  he  coveted,  and  he  admitted  no 
thought  of  defeat.  He  wanted  Walda  with  all  the 
intensity  of  a  strong  nature.  He  knew  now  that  he 
loved  her,  and  he  felt  that  she  was  his  by  right  of  that 
claim.  A  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness  haunted 
him  when  he  thought  of  her  innocence  and  her  un- 
worldliness,  but  there  had  been  born  in  him  a  new 
spirit  that  consumed  all  his  old  desires.  He  knew 

158 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  even  if  he  could  make  the  prophetess  of  Zanah 
love  him,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  persuade 
her  to  leave  the  colony  as  long  as  her  father  lived.  He 
felt  a  hot  wave  of  shame  every  time  he  realized  that  if 
love  came  to  Walda  it  would  bring  her  only  dishonor 
before  her  people.  Whenever  this  view  of  the  end  of 
his  wooing  presented  itself,  he  resolutely  refused  to 
face  it.  He  listened  to  the  cry  of  his  heart.  He  loved 
the  woman  of  Zanah;  he  coveted  her  for  his  wife. 

Women  are  happy  to  enshrine  love  in  their  hearts 
even  when  it  must  burn  in  a  vestal  flame,  but  men  are 
not  content  unless  they  can  carry  it  as  a  torch  from 
which  to  light  the  fires  in  the  hearts  of  those  whom 
they  would  make  their  own.  Women  can  kneel  be 
fore  the  embers  of  a  great  passion  and  be  grateful, 
even  though  it  must  burn  out  before  it  can  reach  their 
own  hearth-stones ;  men  would  snatch  the  holy  fire 
at  any  cost.  Everett  had  slowly  reached  the  point 
where  he  had  deliberately  determined  to  make  Walda 
love  him.  He  had  eased  his  conscience  by  the  plea 
that  it  was  a  crime  for  a  woman  of  such  rare  beauty 
to  be  buried  in  the  colony.  He  was  sure  he  could 
make  her  happy  in  the  world  that  held  so  much  for 
him.  He  could  reason  himself  into  the  belief  that  he 
was  saving  her  from  a  wasted  life.  Yet,  with  all  his 
reasoning,  he  could  not  see  how  he  was  to  obtain  her 
consent  to  marry  him  and  to  go  away  with  him. 
Still,  he  hugged  to  his  heart  the  belief  that  fate 


W  A  L  D  A 

would  befriend  him,  and  he  resolved  not  to  look  be 
yond  the  one  great  aim  of  making  Walda  love  him. 

He  could  not  sleep.  The  thoughts  that  had  har 
assed  him,  since  suddenly  he  had  come  to  know  Wal 
da  had  all  his  love,  disturbed  him  as  he  lay  on  the 
high  bed.  He  stared  at  the  window,  which  afforded 
glimpses  of  a  starlit  sky  between  the  leaves  and 
branches  of  a  tree  that  had  become  black  in  the  night. 
Day  was  breaking  before  he  began  to  feel  drowsy. 
Finally  he  fell  into  a  deep  slumber  that  was  not  dis 
turbed  until  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens.  He 
was  awakened  by  a  remittent  pounding,  the  sound  of 
which  came  from  the  front  of  the  inn.  He  went  to 
the  latticed  window,  whence  he  could  see  that  several 
men  were  building  something  in  the  village  square. 
He  made  a  hasty  toilet  in  his  primitive  dressing-room, 
where  two  buckets  of  water  and  a  wooden  wash-tub 
were  provided  for  his  bath.  The  cold  water  refreshed 
him,  but  he  still  had  a  sense  of  depression. 

Everett  hastened  out  into  the  village  square.  In 
all  the  time  he  had  sojourned  in  Zanah  nothing  un 
usual  had  happened.  It  was  pleasing  to  hope  that  at 
last  something  out  of  the  common  might  be  taking 
place.  Three  middle-aged  men  and  two  boys  were 
engaged  in  putting  together  a  most  extraordinary 
structure.  They  had  fixed  in  place  several  weather- 
beaten  beams  and  a  number  of  old  planks  that  led  up 
to  the  rude  platform. 

160 


W  A  L  D  A 

"What  are  you  building?"  Everett  asked,  but  the 
men  pretended  not  to  understand,  although  he  spoke 
in  German.  They  kept  on  with  their  work. 

"Cannot  you  tell  me  what  this  is?"  Everett  asked. 
The  men  were  still  uncommunicative,  but  one  of  the 
boys  said: 

"These  are  the  stocks  in  which  Hans  Peter  must 
sit  until  he  tells  where  the  school-master's  Bible  is 
hidden." 

"Where  is  Hans  Peter  now?" 

The  boy  had  been  silenced  by  the  men,  and  he  dared 
not  reply. 

During  the  breakfast-hour  Everett  could  obtain  no 
further  information.  He  was  desirous  of  seeing  the 
simple  one,  for  he  felt  in  a  measure  responsible  for 
poor  Hans  Peter's  trouble.  He  made  a  perfunctory 
visit  to  his  patient.  Walda  Kellar  had  ceased  to  be 
on  duty  in  the  sick-room,  and  the  case  had  lost  much 
of  its  interest. 

Wilhelm  Kellar  was  sitting  up  in  a  big  chair.  He 
looked  weak  and  ill,  but  he  proudly  announced,  with 
a  tongue  slow  to  respond  to  his  thoughts: 

"I  shall  be  able  to  attend  the  Untersuchung.  The 
Lord  hath  decreed  that  I  shall  see  the  day  of  my 
daughter's  final  victory  over  earthly  temptations." 
The  old  man's  joy  smote  Everett,  to  whom  the  Unter 
suchung  might  mean  the  loss  of  Walda.  He  turned 
to  whistle  to  Piepmatz. 

"  161 


W  A  L  D  A 

"I  owe  thee  much  for  thine  aid  in  helping  nature 
to  overcome  my  illness,"  said  the  old  man,  speaking 
slowly.  "Thou  hast  been  so  kind  that  thou  hast  won 
my  enduring  confidence.  For  the  first  time  in  a  score 
of  years  my  faith  in  a  man  of  the  outside  world  is  al 
most  restored." 

Again  Everett's  heart  smote  him.  He  who  had 
come  to  love  Wilhelm  Kellar's  daughter  knew  that  he 
stood  ready  to  tempt  Walda  away  from  her  vocation 
as  prophetess.  He  had  always  held  honor  first,  and 
he  was  ill  at  ease.  The  day  had  gone  by,  however, 
when  he  could  consider  the  possibility  of  renuncia 
tion  where  his  heart's  desire  was  concerned.  He  had 
meant  to  flee  from  Zanah,  but  he  had  stayed  because 
he  loved  Walda,  and  because  he  did  not  mean  to  be 
disappointed  in  the  hope  of  winning  her. 

"You  are  not  indebted  to  me,"  he  said  to  Wilhelm 
Kellar.  "The  weeks  spent  in  Zanah  have  been  very 
pleasant  to  me." 

"Thou  art  truly  a  good  man,  Stephen  Everett,  and 
I  am  thankful  that  the  Lord  did  turn  thy  steps  to 
Zanah,"  the  old  man  replied. 

Piepmatz,  looking  out  from  his  rustic  cage,  moved 
his  head  from  side  to  side  as  if  he  were  listening  to  the 
conversation.  Presently  he  whistled  the  bar  of  the 
love-song  that  Everett  had  taught  him.  The  first 
notes  sounded  clear  and  true,  and  then  Piepmatz  sang 
a  false  note  or  two.  He  began  the  bar  a  second  time 

162 


W  A  L  D  A 

and  broke  down.  Everett  heard  the  song,  and  the 
bird-voice  carried  with  it  an  accusation  against  his 
loyalty. 

"You  had  better  go  back  to  your  doxology,"  he 
said,  snapping  his  fingers  at  the  bird. 

He  said  a  hasty  farewell  and  went  back  to  the  inn. 
The  stocks  had  been  completed  and  Hans  Peter  had 
just  been  placed  in  them.  His  fat,  red  hands  and  his 
bare  feet  were  held  so  firmly  that  it  was  plain  the 
pressure  was  most  uncomfortable.  The  simple  one's 
face,  however,  betrayed  no  sign  of  pain.  He  kept  his 
eyes  shut  so  that  he  could  not  see  the  passers-by,  who 
paused  to  stare  at  him.  His  shock  of  tow-hair  was 
matted  on  his  head,  and  his  blue  shirt-sleeves  were 
torn  from  the  arm-holes  by  the  unusual  strain  upon 
the  garment,  which  was  too  small  for  him.  When 
Everett  beheld  the  simple  one  thus  ignominiously 
punished  his  indignation  arose.  Without  speaking 
to  Hans  Peter  he  went  into  the  inn,  where  he  found 
Adolph  Schneider  and  Karl  Weisel. 

"  It  is  only  fair  to  believe  you  do  not  know  you  are 
inflicting  a  cruel  penalty  upon  Hans  Peter,"  he  said, 
addressing  the  Herr  Doktor.  "You  must  lessen  the 
pressure  on  the  boy's  wrists  and  ankles,  and  you  must 
do  it  now." 

"Whence  didst  thou  get  thine  authority  to  issue 
commands  to  the  president  of  the  colony  of  Zanah?" 
asked  Karl  Weisel. 

163 


W  A  L  D  A 

"I  was  not  addressing  you,"  answered  Everett,  and 
the  head  of  the  thirteen  elders,  taking  account  of  the 
athletic  build  of  the  man  of  the  world,  deemed  dis 
cretion  the  better  part  of  valor.  He  forbore  to  pick 
a  quarrel. 

"Speaking  as  a  physician,  I  must  protest  against 
the  use  of  the  stocks,"  said  Everett.  His  tone  was  so 
cool  and  determined  that  Adolph  Schneider  adopted 
a  conciliatory  manner. 

"  Hans  Peter  will  not  remain  long  in  the  stocks,"  he 
said,  burying  his  heavy  chin  in  his  neck-cloth.  "He 
will  soon  tell  what  he  knows  about  the  Bible.  He 
would  have  confessed  this  morning,  but  Mother  Wer- 
ther  made  him  so  comfortable  in  the  potato-bin  that 
he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  think  over  our  injunc 
tion  to  lay  bare  the  facts  about  the  Bible." 

"Even  though  Hans  Peter  may  not  remain  in  the 
stocks  an  hour,  you  must  confine  his  hands  and  feet 
less  closely.  I  dare  say  he  is  numb  now,"  Everett  in 
sisted. 

"Well,  well,  I  will  call  one  of  the  carpenters,"  said 
the  Herr  Doktor,  but  he  did  not  move  from  his  chair. 

"I  will  wait  until  the  carpenter  comes,"  said  Ev 
erett;  "and  he  must  come  without  delay." 

Adolph  Schneider  sullenly  conceded  to  Everett's 
humane  demand,  and  they  went  out  to  the  stocks  to 
gether.  A  crowd  had  gathered  in  the  square,  and 
some  of  the  boys  who  had  escaped  from  Gerson 

164 


W  A  L  D  A 

Brandt's  care  were  jeering  at  the  simple  one.  Hans 
Peter  made  no  sign  until  Everett  spoke  to  him. 

Everett  ascended  the  three  steps  to  the  platform 
of  the  stocks  and  waited  impatiently  while  Hans 
Peter's  hands  and  feet  were  freed  temporarily.  The 
simple  one  was  quite  stiff  when  he  was  commanded  to 
stand  up.  He  straightened  his  back  with  some  diffi 
culty,  although  he  had  not  been  an  hour  in  the  stocks. 
Everett  stooped  to  examine  the  marks  upon  the  lad's 
ankles. 

"Can  you  call  yourselves  Christians,  and  torture  a 
boy  in  this  fashion?"  he  inquired,  in  anger,  addressing 
the  Herr  Doktor. 

"Hans  Peter  is  none  the  worse  for  a  little  lesson 
that  will  teach  him  to  obey  the  commands  of  Zanah," 
Adolph  Schneider  answered. 

"Do  you  intend  to  put  him  back?"  Everett  asked. 

Adolph  Schneider  showed  some  signs  of  hesitation, 
but  Karl  Weisel  replied: 

"He  shall  stay  there  until  his  contumacious  spirit 
is  broken.  He  must  be  punished  until  he  confesseth." 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  do  not  wish  to  tell  where 
the  Bible  is?"  Everett  asked,  kindly.  But  the  sim 
ple  one  replied: 

"They  can  keep  me  in  the  stocks  until  I  die.  I  care 
not.  I  will  not  deliver  the  Sacred  Book  into  their 
hands."  His  lips  were  white,  and  the  perspiration 
stood  upon  his  forehead,  over  which  his  matted  hair 

165 


W  A  L  D  A 

hung  into  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  raise  his  hand  to  his 
head,  but  the  pain  made  the  effort  futile.  Everett 
took  one  of  the  simple  one's  swollen  hands  in  his  and 
began  to  chafe  the  arms,  which  were  numb. 

The  carpenters  soon  had  their  work  done,  and  Karl 
Weisel  ordered  Hans  Peter  back  to  his  place  in  the 
stocks. 

"Isn't  there  something  I  can  do  to  prevent  this 
outrage?"  Everett  spoke  in  a  threatening  tone. 
"How  can  you  stoop  to  such  persecution?" 

Involuntarily  he  clinched  his  hands  and  drew  him 
self  up  to  his  full  height.  Towering  above  the  men 
of  Zanah,  he  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  un 
decided  which  to  knock  down  first. 

Karl  Weisel  took  the  precaution  to  leave  the  plat 
form,  and  when  safe  on  the  ground  he  answered, 
tauntingly : 

"Thine  interference  will  not  be  tolerated  in  Zanah. 
Thou  shalt  not  defeat  the  ends  of  justice." 

"Nay,  mind  not  Hans  Peter;  the  village  fool  doth 
not  fear  those  who  are  called  wise  in  Zanah."  The 
simple  one  spoke  calmly,  and  he  moved  past  Everett 
to  the  beam  upon  which  he  had  been  sitting. 

It  occurred  to  Everett  that  any  violent  measures 
might  only  cause  another  method  of  torture  to  be  de 
vised,  and  he  went  into  the  inn  to  think  about  some 
means  by  which  he  could  deliver  Hans  Peter.  The 
day  wore  away,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  the  simple 

166 


W  A  L  D  A 

one  was  still  in  the  stocks.  An  attempt  to  discuss 
the  matter  with  the  Herr  Doktor  had  proved  fruitless. 
Everett  went  to  the  school-master,  and  Gerson  Brandt 
told  him  that  protest  was  useless. 

' '  I  warned  them  that  I  would  not  consent  to  such 
a  show  of  venge fulness,"  said  Gerson  Brandt,  "but 
they  laughed  at  me,  and  hinted  that  the  simple  one 
was  my  accomplice."  He  was  sitting  at  his  desk, 
and  his  attitude  betrayed  the  deepest  despond 
ency. 

Everett  went  back  to  the  inn  just  as  the  afternoon 
bell  rang.  It  was  the  signal  for  the  girls'  knitting- 
school  and  the  boys'  learning-school  to  dismiss  pupils. 
At  this  hour  the  mill-hands  had  a  brief  respite  for  the 
drinking  of  coffee.  Soon  the  village  street  was  full, 
and  all  the  men,  women,  and  children  turned  their 
steps  towards  the  square.  Here  they  stood  in  groups, 
talking  in  low  tones,  and  casting  glances  up  at  the 
simple  one,  whose  face  was  not  less  stolid  than  usual. 
Hans  Peter  had  become  deathly  pale,  but  as  he  sat 
with  bent  back  and  bowed  head  he  appeared  oblivious 
of  the  crowd  that  was  gazing  at  him. 

' '  At  last  the  village  fool  hath  found  his  right  place 
in  the  world,"  remarked  Mother  Kaufmann,  taking  a 
seat  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  stocks  and  beginning  to 
knit. 

"  I  hope  he  will  remember  all  the  impertinent  things 
he  hath  said  to  us,  and  know  that  he  is  receiving  his 

167 


W  A  L  D  A 

just  dues,"  said  Gretchen  Schneider,  who  had  come 
into  the  square  with  Mother  Kaufmann. 

"  It  seemeth  to  me  that  Hans  Peter  is  one  possessed 
of  a  devil,"  declared  Karl  Weisel,  joining  Gretchen 
Schneider,  and  taking  care  to  stand  so  close  to  her 
that  his  coat-sleeve  brushed  her  arm. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  stocks  Frieda  Bergen  had 
stopped  to  look  up  at  the  prisoner  with  compassion 
written  on  her  pretty  face.  She  wiped  her  eyes  on 
the  corner  of  her  apron,  and  Joseph  Hoff,  who  saw  her 
grief,  passed  by  her  once  or  twice,  biding  his  time 
until  he  could  speak  to  her  without  attracting  the 
attention  of  the  elders  or  colony  mothers,  among 
whom  his  attachment  for  the  girl  had  become  com 
mon  gossip. 

"Hans  Peter  may  be  free  to-morrow,"  he  said,  re 
assuringly.  "Do  not  feel  bad  for  him." 

"There  is  a  tenderness  in  my  heart  for  all  God's 
creatures,  Joseph,"  the  girl  answered. 

"Be  sure  thou  givest  me  most  of  thy  sympathy," 
Joseph  Hoff  said,  and  they  smiled  into  each  other's 
faces  with  a  look  of  perfect  understanding. 

Many  of  the  children  gazed  silently  at  the  culprit, 
and  some  of  them  climbed  up  the  stout  beams  that 
supported  the  stocks.  A  few  venturesome  boys  seat 
ed  themselves  upon  the  heavy  plank  that  held  poor 
Hans  Peter's  hands.  Mother  Werther,  who  had  been 
going  back  and  forth  all  day  between  the  stocks  and 

168 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  inn,  sought  a  place  whence  she  could  speak  a  cheer 
ing  word  to  the  simple  one.  Several  times  Adolph 
Schneider  had  stepped  to  the  inn-porch,  and,  with  a 
flourish  of  his  cane,  had  admonished  the  people  of 
Zanah  to  preserve  order.  He  had  taken  occasion  to 
call  attention  to  the  ways  that  the  Lord  found  by 
which  the  wicked  were  punished.  He  had  just  fin 
ished  one  of  his  exhortations  when  it  was  whispered 
that  Walda  Kellar  was  coming. 

The  prophetess  of  Zanah  walked  over  the  bridge 
with  her  head  bent,  as  if  she  were  preoccupied.  When 
she  looked  up  it  was  plain  that  the  crowd  astonished 
her.  She  quickened  her  steps,  and,  advancing  with 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  stocks,  said,  in  a  clear  tone, 
which  was  heard  by  all  the  people : 

"What  meaneth  this  thing?" 

She  turned  flashing  eyes  from  one  to  another  in  the 
throng,  and  those  near  her  fell  back. 

"Where  is  some  one  who  will  answer  me?  I  would 
speak  to  one  of  the  elders.  By  what  authority  is 
Hans  Peter  placed  in  the  stocks?  Who  hath  dared 
to  pass  such  severe  judgment  upon  one  of  the  most 
helpless  in  Zanah?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Walda  waited  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"I  would  speak  to  Adolph  Schneider  or  Karl  Wei- 
sel,"  she  said;  but  neither  responded  to  her  summons. 
Adolph  Schneider  had  disappeared  into  the  gasthaus 

169 


W  A  L  D  A 

when  he  saw  her,  and  Karl  Weisel  had  drifted  out  of 
sight.  Walda  turned  to  survey  the  crowd. 

"Why  are  ye  here,  looking  on  calmly?  Hath  no 
one  raised  a  voice  in  behalf  of  him  who  hath  harmed 
none  in  the  colony?"  she  cried. 

She  moved  towards  the  stocks,  men,  women,  and 
children  separating  to  let  her  pass.  Ascending  the 
steps,  she  looked  down  upon  the  colonists.  Suddenly 
she  became  clothed  in  a  strange  majesty.  Her  body 
swayed  with  the  strength  of  her  emotion.  She  opened 
her  lips  as  if  to  address  the  throng,  but  some  wiser 
impulse  restrained  her.  She  stood  as  if  in  prayer,  and 
presently,  raising  her  hand  to  command  attention, 
she  said: 

"Hath  it  been  forgotten  that  it  is  written  in  the 
Bible,  'With  what  judgment  ye  judge  ye  shall  be 
judged;  and  with  what  measure  ye  mete  it  shall  be 
measured  to  you  again '  ?  Are  ye  so  wise  that  ye  can 
know  how  guilty  Hans  Peter  is  in  seizing  the  Bible? 
Can  ye  see  into  the  heart  of  him  whom  all  have  called 
the  simple  one  ?  Can  ye  know  his  motives  ?  Has  none 
of  you,  to  whom  the  Lord  hath  given  greater  under 
standing  than  He  hath  vouchsafed  to  this  humble 
child  of  Zanah,  sinned  in  larger  measure  than  Hans 
Peter?  There  hath  been  lost  to  Zanah  a  Bible  of 
great  value;  but  where  is  your  faith?  Can  ye  not 
believe  that  if  it  is  best  it  will  be  returned  unto  you? 
Liberate  Hans  Peter,  and  I  say  unto  you  it  shall  be 

170 


W  A  L  D  A 

made  plain  that  ye  have  done  what  is  good.  Your 
mercy  will  be  rewarded  twofold." 

After  she  spoke  the  last  words  she  paused  for  a 
moment.  A  murmur  passed  over  the  crowd.  One 
of  the  colonists  cried : 

"Free  him!      Free  him!" 

"Listen  not  to  the  voice  of  a  woman's  pity,"  warned 
Karl  Weisel,  from  his  place  on  the  well-curb,  which 
raised  him  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 

"  Nay,  hear  her.  The  power  may  be  upon  her.  She 
may  be  foretelling  what  will  happen  if  Hans  Peter  is 
set  free." 

It  was  Mother  Werther  who  raised  her  voice.  She 
was  standing  upon  the  steps  of  the  inn,  and  her  words 
caused  a  hush  to  fall  upon  the  people  of  Zanah. 

"All  we  in  Zanah  can  learn  a  lesson  to-day  from 
Hans  Peter,"  said  Walda  Kellar,  turning  towards  the 
simple  one,  who  made  no  sign  that  he  had  heard  her 
plea  for  him.  "This  poor  lad  hath  meant  no  harm. 
He  hath  followed  some  strong  impulse,  born  of  the  be 
lief  that  he  is  doing  right,  and  you  put  him  into  the 
stocks,  where  he  remaineth  firm  in  his  determination 
not  to  undo  what  he  hath  thought  was  a  noble  deed. 
For  some  reason  he  hath  desired  to  keep  the  Bible  in 
Zanah,  when  you  would  have  bartered  it  for  gold 
and  silver.  Can  ye  say  that  it  was  not  God's  will  he 
should  hide  it  so  that  it  could  not  be  sent  out  into  the 
world,  where  it  might  not  be  valued  at  its  true  worth  ? 

171 


W  A  L  D  A 

How  can  ye  be  sure  that  it  may  not  be  you,  instead 
of  Hans  Peter,  who  should  be  punished?  Doth  this 
structure  built  by  your  hands  appear  to  be  work  that 
was  inspired  by  God?  Were  not  the  stocks  devised 
by  Satan?  Is  it  thus  that  the  Father  in  Heaven 
would  have  ye  deal  with  those  subjects  in  your 
power?" 

"Verily,  she  speaketh  as  if  she  were  listening  to  the 
still,  small  voice  with  which  the  Lord  quickeneth  the 
consciences  of  his  people,"  said  the  meekest  of  the 
thirteen  elders,  a  little,  bent  man,  who  supported  him 
self  against  a  fence-rail. 

"The  time  draweth  near  for  the  Untersuchung,when 
you  will  listen  to  words  of  wisdom  from  me,"  con 
tinued  Walda,  her  voice  softening  into  a  tone  of  hu 
mility.  "  Much  have  I  prayed  that  I  may  be  worthy 
to  be  chosen  from  among  you  to  be  the  prophetess  of 
Zanah.  In  these  last  few  weeks  there  hath  come  to 
me  a  new  light.  It  is  yet  but  as  a  candle-beam  of  di 
vine  knowledge,  but  it  hath  made  all  things  sacred  in 
mine  eyes.  The  glory  of  God  hath  been  revealed  to 
me  in  the  smallest  ways.  Instead  of  feeling  the  maj 
esty  of  the  Ruler  of  the  universe,  I  have  known  some 
thing  of  the  meaning  of  the  eternal  love  which  encom- 
passeth  the  highest  and  the  lowliest.  In  the  Father's 
eyes,  when  the  day  of  judgment  cometh,  this  hour  in 
the  stocks  may  be  counted  so  much  in  outweighing 
the  sins  of  the  simple  one  that  he  will  be  placed  above 

172 


W  A  L  D  A 

us  all.  This  day's  record  in  the  Book  of  Life  may 
have  a  great  significance." 

Walda,  looking  down  upon  the  upturned  faces  be 
fore  her,  read  fear  written  upon  many  and  compassion 
upon  a  few. 

"  I  beseech  you,  with  one  voice  declare  Hans  Peter 
free,"  she  said,  turning  her  face  first  towards  one  side 
of  the  square  and  then  towards  the  other,  so  that  all 
gathered  there  felt  she  addressed  each  separately. 
"Hesitate  not.  Each  moment  that  ye  wait  adds  to 
the  pain  suffered  by  your  prisoner." 

"Dost  thou  believe  the  Lord  will  reward  us  if  we 
show  mercy?"  asked  the  Herr  Doktor,  who  had  come 
out  of  the  inn  to  hear  what  Walda  had  to  say. 

"The  people  of  Zanah  should  not  weigh  the  chance 
of  reward  for  doing  what  is  just  and  right,"  answered 
the  prophetess. 

Walda  stood  as  if  she  were  listening  for  some  word 
of  pity  from  the  colonists. 

"If  ye  would  show  that  ye  have  confidence  in  me, 
whom  ye  look  to  as  the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  permit 
me  to  liberate  Hans  Peter.  Can  ye  deny  me  this 
privilege?"  she  asked,  presently. 

"It  is  meet  that  we  shift  the  judgment  of  the 
simple  one  to  her  upon  whom  the  inspiration  is  al 
ready  descending,"  said  Mother  Werther.  "Women 
of  Zanah,  pledge  her  your  faith." 

Cries  of  "Give  Walba  Kellar  the  judgment!"  " Let 
173 


W  A  L  D  A 

her  loosen  the  stocks!"  "The  prophetess  of  Zanah 
hath  spoken!"  were  heard  on  every  side. 

"Nay,  the  spirit  hath  not  descended  on  her.  Put 
not  such  power  in  a  girl's  hands,"  shouted  Mother 
Kaufmann,  waving  the  hand  that  still  clasped  her 
knitting. 

Her  words  were  followed  by  low  hisses,  and  instant 
ly  several  of  the  men  were  heard  demanding  Hans 
Peter's  release. 

"She  did  say  that  the  value  of  the  Bible  might  be 
returned  twofold,"  said  Diedrich  Werther,  who  had 
been  encouraged  to  speak  by  vigorous  nudges  from 
his  wife.  Mother  Werther  had  pushed  him  from  his 
place  on  the  porch,  where  he  had  been  hidden  by  the 
vines. 

"Walda  Kellar,  is  it  the  spirit  which  prompts  thee 
to  say  the  value  of  the  Bible  will  be  made  good  to  the 
colony?"  inquired  the  Herr  Doktor. 

Again  Walda  Kellar  stood  with  her  head  turned,  as 
if  she  were  listening  to  the  still,  small  voice  of  her 
conscience. 

"Nay,  Adolph  Schneider,  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  the 
spirit;  I  know  not  whether  my  words  are  words  of 
prophecy.  Yet  my  faith,  looking  up  to  God,  maketh 
me  believe  that  if  thou  showest  mercy  to  the  foolish 
one,  a  recompense  will  be  given  thee." 

Her  words  came  slowly.  They  fell  upon  the  ears 
of  the  people  in  Zanah  with  a  distinctness  and  a  fervor 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  awed  them,  and  again  the  murmur  was  heard  in 
the  square. 

"Free  him!  Free  him!"  shouted  Joseph  Hoff,  and 
the  cry  was  taken  up  by  men,  women,  and  children. 

A  tall,  burly  farm-hand  pushed  his  way  from  the 
stocks  to  the  porch  of  the  inn,  where  the  Herr  Doktor 
still  stood.  He  was  followed  by  three  or  four  of  those 
who  were  known  as  the  keepers  of  the  vineyard. 

"Beware  how  thou  dost  challenge  the  curses  of 
Heaven,"  said  the  farm-hand.  "Dost  thou  intend 
to  obey  the  prophetess,  now  that  she  hath  spoken?" 

"We  have  had  bad  luck  enough  already,"  said  one 
of  the  keepers  of  the  vineyard.  "Defy  not  Heaven 
now." 

Something  like  fear  showed  itself  in  the  face  of 
Adolph  Schneider.  He  cast  his  small  eyes  towards 
Karl  Weisel,  who  shook  his  head.  The  people  had 
now  turned  their  faces  from  the  stocks,  and  the  crowd 
gazed  upon  the  village  president,  who  was  plainly 
hesitating  concerning  what  would  be  the  best  policy. 

"The  men  of  Zanah  have  spoken  wisely,"  declared 
the  meek  elder,  from  his  place  near  the  fence.  "  Thou 
must  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  people." 

"Free  him!  Free  him!"  the  crowd  shouted.  Amid 
all  the  clamor  Walda  Kellar  stood  motionless,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  far  bluffs,  and  Hans  Peter  sat 
with  head  drooped  so  that  his  face  could  not  be  seen. 
While  the  crowd  was  threatening  to  become  a  mob, 

175 


W  A  L  D  A 

it  was  not  noticed  that  the  school-master  had  crossed 
the  fields,  pushed  his  way  to  the  stocks,  and  ascended 
two  steps. 

"  Men  and  women  of  Zanah,  if  ye  turn  a  deaf  ear  to 
Walda  Kellar,  let  me  offer  myself  as  the  one  upon 
whom  to  inflict  the  punishment  ye  deem  fitting  be 
cause  the  Bible  upon  which  I  put  much  patient  work 
hath  disappeared."  Gerson  Brandt's  voice  was  low, 
but  it  had  a  determined  ring  in  it  as  he  spoke  to  the 
colonists.  He  had  removed  his  hat,  and  those  who 
looked  upon  his  face  marvelled  that  the  gentle  school 
master  could  be  so  threatening  in  mien  and  gesture. 

"Since  the  Sacred  Book  disappeared  while  i't  was  in 
my  custody,  I  am  responsible  for  it.  If  any  one  is  to 
be  put  into  the  stocks,  it  is  I,  that  served  you  all  as 
your  elder — I,  to  whom  you  have  intrusted  the  train 
ing  of  your  boys.  This  day's  work  shall  long  be  a  re 
proach  to  Zanah,  for  ye  have  stood  by  while  the  sim 
ple  one  hath  been  made  to  suffer.  Even  though  he 
may  have  been  guilty  of  the  offence  imputed  to  him, 
the  penalty  is  greater  than  his  deed  hath  merited." 

The  uproar  that  followed  this  speech  caused  the 
Herr  Doktor  to  tremble  as  he  leaned  upon  his  cane. 

"Surely  no  one  in  all  Zanah  would  see  Gerson 
Brandt  put  into  the  stocks,"  said  Mother  Werther, 
taking  her  place  beside  Adolph  Schneider.  "For 
shame,  brethren  and  sisters  of  Zanah!  Give  Hans 
Peter  his  liberty." 

176 


W  A  L  D  A 

"We  demand  the  release  of  the  simple  one,"  said 
the  vineyard  workers.  "Let  him  go!  Let  him  go!" 

"Gerson  Brandt,  thine  offer  to  take  Hans  Peter's 
place  in  the  stocks  is  an  insult  to  thy  high  office  as  an 
elder  of  Zanah,"  said  the  Herr  Doktor.  "I  will  ac 
cede  to  the  wishes  of  the  people.  Thou  canst  liberate 
the  village  fool." 

Adolph  Schneider  turned  to  go  into  the  inn,  and 
Stephen  Everett,  who  had  been  watching  the  strange 
scene  from  the  corner  of  the  porch,  went  out  into  the 
square  to  offer  aid  to  Gerson  Brandt.  The  school 
master  had  acted  quickly,  and  before  Everett  reached 
the  stocks  Hans  Peter's  feet  were  free.  Everett  loosed 
the  simple  one's  hands  and  raised  him  to  an  upright 
position.  Hans  Peter  was  so  stiff  that  he  fell  upon 
the  rude  platform. 

"He  is  exhausted.  I  will  take  him  into  the  inn," 
said  Everett,  addressing  Walda,  who  was  leaning  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  Hans  Petei. 

"I  know  that  thou  wilt  minister  to  him,  and  that 
thou  wilt  restore  his  senses.  See,  he  hath  swooned!" 

"I  will  take  care  of  him.  You  can  trust  me  to 
see  that  he  is  made  comfortable,"  Everett  prom 
ised. 

"Yea,  I  always  trust  thee,  Stephen." 

The  man  and  woman  bending  over  the  form  of  the 
simple  one  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  a  second. 
Then  Everett  lifted  Hans  Peter  in  his  arms,  carried 

177 


W  A  L  D  A 

him  down  the  steps,  and,  passing  through  the  crowd, 
disappeared  within  the  door  of  the  inn. 

Standing  upon  the  platform  of  the  stocks,  Walda 
looked  after  them  until  the  inn-door  had  closed.  Turn 
ing,  she  beheld  Gerson  Brandt  staring  at  her  with  ter 
ror  in  his  eyes.  He  was  ghastly  pale,  and  his  thin 
nostrils  were  widely  dilated  with  the  quickness  of  his 
breathing. 

"Art  thou  ill,  Gerson  Brandt?"  she  asked. 

"Nay,  I  have  my  usual  health.  Just  now,  fear 
clutcheth  at  my  heart." 

"Fear,  Gerson  Brandt?  Thou  wert  ever  brave. 
What  is  it  that  thou  couldst  fear?" 

"A  shadow  was  cast  over  me.     It  hath  passed." 

Gerson  Brandt  stooped  to  pick  up  his  hat,  and  mo 
tioned  to  Walda  to  pass  down  the  steps  before  him. 
As  Walda  walked  through  the  square  the  people 
bowed  before  her,  in  token  of  their  recognition  that 
she  was,  indeed,  the  prophetess,  for  it  was  whispered 
that  the  stranger  from  the  outside  world  had  given 
his  word  to  Adolph  Schneider  that  he  would  pay  twice 
the  value  of  the  Bible  on  condition  that  Hans  Peter 
should  not  be  further  punished. 


XIV 

EVERETT  counted  the  days  until  the  Unlersu- 
chung.  Only  ten  intervened.  In  less  than  a  fort 
night  Walda  would  be  cut  off  from  all  communication 
with  him.  She  would  have  entered  into  her  duties  as 
the  leader  of  the  colony.  She  would  be  the  prophetess 
— the  inspired  one.  He  tried  to  imagine  himself  look 
ing  on  during  the  quaint  ceremony  of  the  Untersu- 
chung,  and  he  had  to  face  the  knowledge  that  he  could 
not  stand  by  while  the  girl  passed  forever  beyond  his 
reach.  Even  while  he  dared  vaguely  to  plan  some 
way  by  which  he  could  win  her  for  himself,  he  had  a 
few  misgivings  concerning  her  unfitness  for  his  world, 
which  he  knew  she  would  find  strange  and  cruel.  He 
told  himself  that  he  could  protect  her,  that  he  could 
make  her  happy,  and  that  he  could  help  her  to  become 
adjusted  to  a  different  sphere.  With  the  unreason  of 
the  lover  he  imagined  how  they  would  live  for  each 
other,  aloof  from  all  the  ordinary  demands  of  every 
day  existence.  He  knew  that  she  loved  the  few  books 
that  had  been  open  to  her  in  Zanah,  and  he  dreamed 
of  the  days  when  he  would  guide  her  into  a  broader 
knowledge,  when  he  would  help  her  to  acquire  the  sort 

179 


W  A  L  D  A 

of  an  education  suited  to  her  unusual  mind.  He  was 
confident  that  her  artistic  nature  would  develop  in  a 
congenial  atmosphere.  It  would  be  his  pride  to  cul 
tivate  her  glorious  voice,  and  to  teach  her  to  under 
stand  the  painter's  art,  which  Zanah  held  sinful.  His 
thoughts  travelled  over  the  same  circle  again  and 
again,  but  always  he  came  back  to  the  idea  that  he 
must  act  quickly  if  he  would  save  her  from  bondage  to 
the  colony — if  he  would  awaken  her  to  the  meaning 
of  his  love. 

He  was  thankful  for  the  opportunity  her  daily  pray 
ers  at  the  tomb  of  Marta  Bachmann  gave  him  to  meet 
her,  but  the  next  night  after  he  had  walked  with  her 
to  the  little  cemetery  he  had  seen  her  cross  the  bridge 
accompanied  by  no  less  a  person  than  Mother  Schnei 
der  herself.  He  had  been  compelled  to  pace  restlessly 
back  and  forth  among  the  trees,  keeping  out  of  sight 
lest  his  presence  might  be  discovered. 

On  the  third  night  he  watched  for  Walda  at  the 
point  where  the  road  reached  the  shore  of  the  lake. 
It  was  late,  and  he  had  almost  given  up  hope  of  see 
ing  her  when  she  came  slowly  towards  him.  For  an 
hour  he  had  been  reconnoitring  the  whole  distance 
between  the  lake  and  the  cemetery.  And  now,  when 
he  beheld  her,  he  felt  as  if  he  must  claim  her  by  the 
right  of  his  love  for  her.  His  better  judgment,  how 
ever,  told  him  that  he  must  be  circumspect  in  his 
wooing.  One  impetuous  word  might  put  her  on  her 

1 80 


W  A  L  D  A 

guard.  The  touch  of  his  hand  had  given  her  a  pre 
science  of  danger,  for,  according  to  her  belief,  love  was 
the  greatest  danger  that  could  beset  her  path.  When 
Walda  saw  him  she  appeared  surprised  at  the  chance 
encounter.  It  was  evident  she  had  no  suspicion  that 
he  had  deliberately  waylaid  her. 

"  It  is  good  that  I  should  meet  thee  here,  Stephen," 
she  said,  "for  my  heart  is  so  full  of  joy  I  feel  as  if  I 
must  share  my  gladness  with  some  one." 

"What  has  happened  to  make  you  so  happy?"  Ev 
erett  asked.  He  saw  that  there  was  a  radiance  in  her 
face,  and  that  her  eyes  shone  with  an  unusual  brill 
iance. 

"There  hath  been  no  outward  experience  different 
from  those  that  come  to  me  every  day,"  she  said. 
"  But,  Stephen,  my  heart  is  lifted  up  exceedingly.  I 
feel  in  me  a  new  strength.  My  spirit  dwelleth  in 
dreams." 

"  Dreams,  Walda?     What  are  your  dreams  like?" 

"  They  are  misty — formless.  It  is  as  if  a  light  were 
just  breaking  over  the  darkness  of  my  soul.  I  feel  the 
whisperings  of  a  divine  knowledge ;  a  marvellous  pow 
er  hath  been  given  to  me.  Stephen,  I  know  the  in 
spiration  is  coming  to  me.  All  my  doubts  are  vanish 
ing.  I  feel  very  near  to  God." 

She  was  transfigured  with  the  intensity  of  her  emo 
tions.  In  her  exaltation  of  spirit  she  was  so  aloof 
from  Everett  that  he  stood  dumb  before  her. 

181 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Stephen,  hast  thou  nothing  to  say?  Dost  thou 
not  rejoice  with  me?" 

"I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  happy,  Walda; 
but  being  just  a  man  of  the  world,  I  am  selfish  enough 
to  feel  unreconciled  to  your  separation  from  me.  Wal 
da,  I  crave  a  little  part  of  your  thoughts.  I  want  to 
share  your  joy.  And  now  I  behold  you  carried  so 
far  away  from  me  that  I  cannot  even  comprehend 
the  transformation  which  is  taking  place  in  you.  Is 
it  prayer  that  is  raising  your  spirit  above  the 
earth?" 

"It  is  not  prayer  alone  that  hath  made  me  behold 
new  glories,  Stephen,  for  through  all  my  years  spent 
in  Zanah  I  have  prayed  unceasingly.  Thou  hast 
helped  to  open  mine  eyes;  thou  hast  been  the  messen 
ger  that  hath  turned  my  face  to  the  light.  Verily,  it 
is  written  that  the  Lord  doth  choose  mysterious  ways 
by  which  to  work  his  will." 

For  a  moment  Everett  felt  he  was,  indeed,  a  hypo 
crite.  He  was  not  an  egotist,  but  his  hopes,  which  a 
moment  before  had  been  cast  down  by  the  girl's  ex 
traordinary  rapture,  now  rose,  for  he  perceived  that 
he  had,  indeed,  gained  an  influence  over  her. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Walda,"  Everett  said,  after 
he  had  thought  for  a  moment.  "  Come  with  me  down 
to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  where  there  is  a  log  that  makes 
a  comfortable  seat." 

Walda  hesitated. 

182 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Nay,  Stephen,  I  must  hasten  to  Marta  Bach- 
mann's  grave." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  sometimes  it  may  be  better 
to  talk  with  the  living  than  to  pray  with  the  dead?" 
Everett  asked.  "I  thought  you  were  interested  in 
my  welfare.  Don't  you  know  that  a  few  words  from 
you  may  change  my  whole  life?" 

"If  I  could  lead  thee  towards  heaven  it  would  be 
my  duty  to  speak  with  thee." 

"Well,  you  can  lead  me  to  heaven." 

Everett  parted  the  low  branches  of  the  trees  so  that 
Walda  could  pass  through,  and  as  she  stepped  into  the 
little  path  to  the  water's  edge  one  of  her  long,  fair 
braids  caught  upon  a  twig.  She  turned  her  face  back 
ward  as  she  felt  the  sharp  pull,  and  Everett,  thanking 
his  stars  for  a  lucky  fate  that  appeared  to  be  attend 
ing  him  on  this  particular  evening,  disengaged  the 
shining  hair.  He  pretended  to  be  very  clumsy,  and 
his  head  was  brought  close  to  Walda's.  The  slightest 
trace  of  embarrassment  showed  itself  in  the  manner 
of  the  prophetess  of  Zanah  as  she  smoothed  the  braid 
and  adjusted  her  cap.  She  walked  forward  rather 
hastily,  and  Everett  pointed  out  the  log,  at  one  end  of 
which  the  limbs  made  a  graceful  back  for  the  rustic 
seat. 

"Let  me  help  you  over  these  stones,"  said  Everett, 
and,  taking  her  hand,  he  led  her  to  the  log.  He 
placed  her  comfortably,  and,  standing  beside  her, 

183 


W  A  L  D  A 

told  her  to  look  at  the  wavering  shadows  in  the 
water. 

"All  is  peace  here,  Stephen,"  the  girl  said,  looking 
up  at  him.  "In  Zanah  there  is  rest  for  the  weary 
spirit.  Couldst  thou  not  be  contented  here  always?" 

"If  we  could  always  be  together  as  we  are  now, 
Walda,  it  seems  to  me  I  could  never  wish  for  anything 
more." 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  log  quite  close  to  her, 
and,  leaning  with  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  studied  every 
feature  of  her  beautiful  face.  In  his  heart  was  a  tu 
multuous  longing  to  make  her  know  that  he  loved  her, 
but  her  presence  overcame  him  with  a  feeling  that  she 
was  too  holy  to  be  disturbed  by  the  knowledge  of  his 
passion.  Walda  said,  presently: 

"  It  is  strange  that  when  I  am  with  thee  neither  the 
past  nor  the  future  harasses  me.  I  am  satisfied  with 
the  present;  it  is  as  if  thou  didst  encompass  my  soul 
with  the  fortress  of  thy  strength.  To-night  all  my 
fears  about  the  future  are  gone.  I  am  happy,  Ste 
phen — strangely  happy." 

She  leaned  back  against  the  gnarled  limbs  of  the 
old  tree,  and  turned  her  face  towards  the  lake. 

"Walda,  has  your  religion  never  taught  you  that 
only  in  the  union  of  a  man's  soul  and  a  woman's  soul 
can  there  be  perfect  knowledge  of  life?" 

She  thought  a  moment,  and  then  answered: 

"Nay,  Stephen,  there  is  naught  in  the  Bible  which 
184 


W  A  L  D  A 

teacheth  that  the  prophets  needed  any  but  divine  aid. 
In  no  place  in  the  Bible  were  two  souls  united  in  re 
ceiving  the  inspiration  of  God.  Yet  it  hath  seemed 
to  me  that  thou  wert  somehow  joined  to  me  in  my 
inspiration.  Instead  of  separating  me  from  thee,  the 
knowledge  that  is  coming  to  me  maketh  me  feel  de 
pendent  upon  thee." 

Stephen  touched  her  hand,  and  she  drew  it  away 
to  hide  it  in  the  folds  of  her  blue  cotton  gown. 

"You  don't  mind  having  me  near  you,  do  you, 
Walda?"  he  asked. 

"Nay,  Stephen;  it  hath  seemed  lately  that  I  craved 
thy  presence  too  much." 

Everett  felt  his  pulses  quicken. 

"  I  know  that  thou  hast  been  sent  to  me  by  divine 
dispensation,"  she  continued.  "But  since  the  spirit 
of  prophecy  hath  begun  to  come  to  me,  thou  dost 
stir  my  heart.  I  know  that  I  must  withdraw 
from  association  with  thee  and  with  my  people.  To 
night  there  cometh  over  me  a  vague  alarm.  I  am 
happy  near  thee,  and  yet  I  fear  this  peace  may 
vanish." 

"You  cannot  deny  me  the  privilege  of  speaking 
to  you  in  these  few  days  before  the  Unterstichung," 
Everett  answered.  He  gently  took  the  hand  Walda 
had  hidden  in  her  gown,  and,  holding  it  in  a  firm 
clasp,  said: 

"  I  have  a  mind  never  to  let  you  go  from  me,  Walda. 
'85 


W  A  L  D  A 

I  need  you  all  my  life.  I  cannot  look  forward  to  the 
years  out  there  in  the  world  without  you." 

"Dost  thou  mean,  Stephen,  that  thou  wouldst  stay 
here  in  Zanah  serving  the  Lord  with  the  men  of  the 
colony?  Stay  for  the  good  of  thy  soul?" 

Everett  pictured  himself  attired  in  colony  garb  and 
meekly  accepting  the  orders  of  Adolph  Schneider  and 
Karl  Weisel;  but,  holding  Walda's  hand,  the  absurdity 
of  such  a  position  became  every  second  less  apparent 
to  him.  He  felt  that  no  sacrifice  could  be  too  great 
if  it  kept  him  near  to  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  stay,  Walda?"  he  asked. 

"  Yea,  Stephen,  even  if  I  might  not  speak  to  thee,  it 
would  cheer  me  to  look  upon  thy  face.  I  have  thought 
much  of  thy  going  away,  and  I  have  felt  that  Zanah 
will  be  dreary  without  thee.  Sometimes  I  have  fear 
ed  lest  I  might  be  tempted  to  carry  thine  image  in  my 
heart.  It  is  gratitude  that  maketh  thee  thus  inhabit 
my  thoughts." 

"It  is  not  your  gratitude  that  I  want,  Walda," 
Stephen  said.  "No,  you  cannot  take  away  your  hand. 
I  want  to  hold  it  while  I  talk  to  you.  In  these  few 
weeks  in  Zanah  I  have  come  to  know  that  you  will  be 
always  the  one  woman  who  can  command  all  my  rev 
erence,  my  respect,  and  my  allegiance.  You  have 
taught  me  that  I  have  lived  too  much  for  self ;  you  have 
aroused  in  me  an  impulse  to  make  more  of  my  oppor 
tunities.  You  have  become  my  good  angel,  I  can- 

186 


W  A  L  D  A 

not  go  back  to  the  world,  and  to  a  lazy,  careless  ex 
istence.     I  have  forsaken  my  old  idols,  Walda." 

"Thou  hast  builded  thee  a  new  altar,  Stephen. 
And  now  thou  wilt  not  profane  it." 

It  was  the  prophetess,  not  the  woman,  who  spoke. 
Walda  had  forgotten  all  the  vague  alarm.  She  was 
looking  upon  Stephen  as  a  new  disciple  of  Zanah 
whom  she  was  glad  to  welcome  into  the  fold. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  new  altar  upon  which  I  am  willing 
to  sacrifice  all  my  old  habits,  my  previous  interests," 
he  confessed.  "To  it  I  bring  the  incense  of  love  and 
service  and  loyalty.  Before  it  I  feel  my  own  un- 
worthiness.  Walda,  I  am  but  an  ordinary  man,  one 
who  has  been  content  to  live  for  the  day.  Since  I 
came  to  Zanah,  my  future  years  have  a  new  mean 
ing." 

"When  a  man  turneth  his  footsteps  towards  heav 
en,  then,  indeed,  the  future  is  glorified.  Henceforth 
thou  wilt  press  onward  towards  the  gates  of  heaven." 

"  But,  Walda,  I  may  find  the  gates  closed,  after  all. 
Don't  you  know  it  is  you  who  hold  the  key?" 

"Nay,  thou  art  almost  blasphemous.  I  can  only 
point  the  way." 

They  sat  there  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  The  twi 
light  was  gathering.  The  shadows  of  evening  closed 
out  Zanah  and  all  the  earth.  A  soft  wind  rippled  the 
lake,  which  broke  in  tiny  waves  at  their  feet. 

"Walda,  you  who  are  so  wise  in  the  knowledge  of 
187 


W  A  L  D  A 

things  that  pertain  to  heaven  are  ignorant  of  many 
of  the  fundamental  principles  of  life  here  upon  earth. 
Cannot  you  understand  that  at  this  very  moment  I 
am  like  a  wayfarer  standing  at  the  gate  of  paradise?" 

Involuntarily  he  tightened  the  clasp  of  his  hand, 
and  love,  sleeping  in  the  heart  of  the  woman,  was  sud 
denly  disturbed. 

Walda  drew  her  hand  away,  and,  rising  to  her  feet, 
looked  at  Everett  with  fear  in  her  face. 

"To-night  thou  dost  speak  in  parables,  Stephen," 
she  said.  "To-night  thou  dost  cause  me  to  tremble 
before  thee.  Let  me  go  to  the  grave  of  Marta  Bach- 
mann,  where  I  can  pray  until  my  spirit  is  soothed." 

Everett  stood  before  her  as  if  he  would  block  her 
path.  He  uncovered  her  head,  and  gazed  at  her  with 
all  the  passionate  longing  of  a  strong  nature.  He 
would  have  put  out  his  arms  to  draw  her  close  to  him, 
but  her  sweetness  and  innocence  made  him  ashamed 
of  the  impulse.  She  was  in  his  power,  but  he  saw 
that  her  momentary  fear  had  passed  away,  for,  with 
her  eyes  raised  to  the  stars  that  had  appeared  above 
the  horizon,  she  was  praying.  The  man's  mood 
changed  instantly.  He  could  have  knelt  before  her 
to  kiss  the  hem  of  her  gown. 

"Walda,  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  showing  to 
night  that  I  am  almost  unworthy  of  your  trust  in  me," 
he  said.  "Turn  your  face  to  me  now,  and  tell  me 
that  you  will  go  away  thinking  of  me  as  one  who 

188 


W  A  L  D  A 

would  hold  you  so  sacred  that  he  would  sacrifice  his 
heart's  desire  if  in  so  doing  he  could  assure  you  of  the 
fulfilment  of  life's  best  promises." 

Walda  had  folded  her  hands  upon  her  breast.  Hav 
ing  thus  made  the  sign  of  Zanah,  which  was  believed 
to  ward  off  all  earthly  influences,  she  said: 

"Verily,  Stephen,  thou  hast  put  unrest  in  my  heart, 
yet  even  now  I  feel  an  abiding  faith  in  thee." 

"  I  shall  try  to  be  worthy  of  your  faith,  Walda." 

While  they  stood  close  together  the  curfew -bell 
sounded  from  the  village  belfry.  It  brought  back  to 
earth  the  man  and  woman  who  lingered  thus  just 
outside  the  walls  of  paradise. 

"Good-night,  Stephen.     God  be  with  thee." 

Walda  had  again  become  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
She  passed  him  in  the  narrow  path  from  which  he 
had  stepped  aside,  and  he  let  her  go  without  a  word. 
She  walked  a  few  paces  only,  her  face  still  uplifted  to 
the  sky  and  her  hands  still  folded  across  her  breast. 
Then  she  paused  to  look  backward  at  the  man  whose 
parables  had  in  them  a  meaning  which  she  had  never 
found  in  the  words  of  Holy  Writ. 

And  being  a  woman,  as  well  as  a  prophetess,  she 
saw  that  Everett  was  good  to  look  upon. 


XV 


IT  was  a  rainy  day  in  Zanah.  Early  in  the  morn 
ing,  when  Everett  looked  out  of  the  diamond- 
paned  window  of  his  bedroom,  he  saw  that  the  trees 
and  vines  in  the  garden  were  dripping.  The  night- 
wind  had  beaten  off  many  of  the  leaves,  which  had 
grown  yellow  in  the  long  drought  and  the  dying 
summer.  The  distant  bluffs  were  hidden  behind  a 
curtain  of  mist.  Two  village  "mothers "  passed,  their 
shawls  drawn  over  their  heads  and  their  feet  drag 
ging  slowly  in  their  clumsy,  wooden  shoes.  Everett 
dressed  quickly,  for  his  room  was  dark,  and  the  si 
lence  of  the  village  oppressed  him.  When  he  went 
out  to  his  breakfast  in  the  long,  bare  dining-room, 
Mother  Werther  served  him  in  silence.  He  wondered 
at  her  unusual  taciturnity,  and  he  tried  to  start  a 
cheerful  conversation.  She  replied  to  him  in  mono 
syllables.  The  entrance  of  a  boy  whom  he  re 
membered  seeing  at  the  learning  -  school  tempora 
rily  diverted  Mother  Werther  from  her  unpleasant 
thoughts. 

"This  is  my  son  Johann,"  she  said,  pushing  the  lad 
forward. 

190 


W  A  L  D  A 

The  boy  hung  his  head,  and  Everett  inquired  why 
Johann  was  never  at  home. 

"It  is  not  wise  that  he  should  be  kept  at  the  gast- 
haus,"  Mother  Werther  explained,  as  she  fixed  a  place 
for  Johann  at  the  distant  end  of  the  table. 

"Does  some  unusual  occurrence  bring  him  here  to 
day?"  Everett  inquired,  with  a  show  of  interest. 

"It  is  the  Day  of  Warning,  and  families  hold  com 
munion  before  they  go  to  the  meeting-house,"  Mother 
Werther  explained.  "It  is  the  last  Sabbath  before 
the  Untersuchung,  and  we  make  ready  for  the  annual 
accounting  of  our  faults  and  follies." 

The  woman's  words  brought  uppermost  in  his  mind 
the  thought  that  had  harassed  him  in  the  hours  of  the 
night.  The  time  of  Walda's  ordination  as  prophetess 
was  very  near.  He  rose  from  the  table.  He  heard 
the  rain  falling  upon  the  slate  roof  of  the  side  porch 
upon  which  the  dining  -  room  opened.  Lifting  the 
heavy  latch,  he  pushed  the  door  slightly  ajar.  The 
downpour  was  steady. 

"Does  your  prophetess  take  any  special  part  in  to 
day's  ceremonies?"  Everett  asked,  because  he  felt  that 
he  must  contrive  to  see  Walda. 

"Nay,  she  will  be  present  at  the  meeting,  that  is 
all,"  said  Mother  Werther,  bustling  out  into  the  back 
kitchen. 

Everett  sauntered  into  the  office,  which  was  occu 
pied  by  Hans  Peter.  The  simple  one  had  placed  upon 

191 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  mantel-shelf  above  the  fireplace  half  a  dozen  of  his 
marked  gourds,  and  he  was  studying  them  intently. 
He  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  Everett,  who  stepped 
up  beside  him. 

"Are  you  preparing  for  the  Day  of  Warning  and  the 
Untersuchung,  Hans  Peter?"  Everett  asked. 

The  village  fool  shook  his  head. 

"Thou  forgettest  that  Hans  Peter  is  one  whom  the 
Lord  hath  forgotten,"  he  said.  "The  Almighty 
taketh  no  account  of  the  sayings  and  doings  of  the 
simple  one." 

The  simple  one  took  into  his  hand  a  gourd  which 
toore  but  one  or  two  deep  cuts  dried  into  its  hardened 
surface. 

"This  Hans  Peter  had  in  his  pocket  on  the  day 
that  he  carried  the  carpet-bag  of  the  stranger,"  he 
said. 

"What  do  the  marks  stand  for,  Hans  Peter?  I 
hope  they  do  not  mean  anything  uncomplimentary." 

The  simple  one  said  that  he  did  not  understand,  and 
Everett  explained. 

"This  meaneth  that  the  stranger  in  Zanah  bringeth 
trouble,"  the  village  fool  answered. 

Everett  paced  up  and  down  the  sanded  floor  for  a 
few  moments. 

"You  are  not  a  prophet,  Hans  Peter,"  he  said, 
stopping  to  pull  the  village  fool's  ear.  "  Have  I  done 
any  harm  in  Zanah?" 

192 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Thou  hast  sown  some  seeds  of  discord." 

"  Cannot  you  forgive  me  for  the  Bible  episode  ?  You 
know  I  have  done  my  best  to  make  amends.  You 
will  not  always  blame  me  for  your  suffering  in  the 
stocks,  I  hope." 

The  simple  one  put  the  gourd  he  had  been  examin 
ing  into  one  of  his  deep  pockets. 

"Thou  knowest  the  stocks  were  but  the  penalty  of 
mine  own  deed,"  he  said.  "There  are  other  things 
that  even  a  fool  can  see  and  hear.  Thou  hast  a  soft 
voice  when  thou  speakest  to  the  prophetess  of  Zanah. 
Thine  eyes  watch  her  always  when  she  is  near  thee." 

Hans  Peter  folded  his  arms  in  imitation  of  Everett 
and  stared  at  him  with  unblinking  eyes. 

"You  are  observant,  Hans  Peter.  As  I  have  often 
told  you,  every  day  I  am  more  and  more  convinced 
you  are  the  wisest  man  in  Zanah."  Everett  flicked 
the  ashes  from  the  cigar  he  was  smoking  and  smiled 
down  at  the  queer  little  figure.  "What  conclusions 
do  you  draw  from  your  two  discoveries?" 

"It  seemeth  that  thine  actions  are  like  Joseph 
Hoff's,  and  the  people  of  Zanah  say  that  he  hath 
earthly  love  in  his  heart." 

"If  my  memory  serves  me  right,  it  was  you  who 
aided  Joseph  Hoff  to  send  messages  to  the  one  he 
loves,"  said  Everett. 

"She  was  not  a  prophetess,"  the  fool  declared. 

Hans  Peter  had  selected  a  second  gourd  from  the 
13  193 


W  A  L  D  A 

shelf,  and  had  fled  from  the  room  before  Everett  could 
sound  him  on  the  subject  of  acting  as  errand-boy. 

Still  the  rain  poured  down.  Everett  chafed  under 
his  enforced  inactivity,  for  he  felt  that  every  hour 
meant  much  to  him.  Presently,  because  he  had  noth 
ing  better  to  do,  he  took  down  from  its  place  beside 
Hans  Peter's  gourds  the  old  tinder-box,  and  lighted 
the  wood  that  was  piled  in  the  fireplace.  He  lounged 
upon  the  settle  and  idly  watched  the  flames  creep 
along  the  logs.  His  thoughts  flew  out  to  Walda.  He 
wondered  what  she  was  doing.  He  felt  a  disgust  for 
the  fanaticism  of  the  colony,  and  he  tried  to  think  of 
some  way  of  claiming  the  woman  he  loved.  He  was 
ready  to  carry  her  off  without  any  ado,  but  he  knew 
that  as  long  as  her  father  lived  he  could  not  persuade 
her  to  go  away.  Although  he  had  not  yet  made  her 
realize  she  loved  him,  he  would  not  harbor  the  thought 
that  he  could  lose  her  —  and  yet  his  suit  appeared 
hopeless. 

His  reflections  were  disturbed  by  the  voice  of 
Mother  Werther  raised  in  indignant  remonstrance. 
She  was  in  the  next  room,  and  he  heard  her  say: 

"Diedrich,  thou  dost  vex  me  much  lately.  And 
now  thou  dost  tell  me  thou  likest  to  gaze  through 
the  car-windows  to  behold  the  women  of  the  world 
as  they  pass  by  Zanah." 

"They  are  comely,"  the  innkeeper  answered,  in  his 
laconic  fashion. 

194 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  How  darest  thou  tell  me  that?  To-day  I  am  half 
persuaded  to  confess  to  the  elders  that  at  last  I  have 
learned  the  love  of  man  is  not  to  be  trusted.  I  have 
a  mind  to  claim  promotion  to  the  second  rank  of  the 
colony,  and  who  knows  but  I  may  soon  hate  thee 
enough  to  serve  the  Lord  in  singleness  of  purpose!" 

"Thy  tongue  proveth  thou  mayst  yet  become  like 
Mother  Schneider  and  Mother  Kaufmann,  who  have 
long  been  in  the  third  rank  because  they  love  not 
men,"  remarked  Diedrich  Werther. 

"  Thou  speakest  hateful  words."  Mother  Werther's 
voice  was  choked  with  anger.  "Many  times  hast 
thou  tried  me  sorely,  but  never  until  to-day  have  I 
seen  that  thou  art  indeed  a  man  with  sinful  impulses. 
Thy  feet  have  been  turned  from  the  straight  and  nar 
row  way.  Thou  hast  a  liking  for  wicked  things." 

Everett  smiled  when  he  heard  what  he  might  take 
as  an  object-lesson  of  the  inevitable  experience  of  even 
the  most  faithful  of  married  couples.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  thought  that,  after  all,  it  was  only 
the  few  who  knew  the  real  meaning  of  love,  the  love 
that  blended  worship  and  lofty  aspiration. 

Diedrich  Werther  came  into  the  office.  It  was 
plain  that  the  berating  he  had  received  had  not  dis 
turbed  his  phlegmatic  calm.  He  shuffled  along  in  his 
carpet  slippers  until  he  reached  the  desk,  behind  which 
he  perched  himself  on  a  high  stool.  Everett  felt  irri 
tated  at  the  unpleasant  interruption  to  his  thoughts 

195 


W  A  L  D  A 

of  Walda.  He  snatched  up  his  soft  felt  hat  and  went 
out  into  the  muddy  street.  He  turned  his  steps  tow 
ards  Wilhelm  Kellar's  room,  where  he  found  his  pa 
tient  sitting  up  in  an  arm-chair.  Gerson  Brandt  was 
with  him.  The  two  colonists  showed  an  unusual  re 
straint  in  the  presence  of  the  stranger  in  Zanah. 

"I  have  been  telling  Brother  Brandt  that  I  need 
thy  services  no  longer,"  said  Wilhelm  Kellar,  ad 
dressing  Everett.  "There  is  nothing  to  hinder  thee 
from  leaving  Zanah  to-morrow." 

Everett  noticed  that  Gerson  Brandt  watched  him 
closely  while  Wilhelm  Kellar  spoke. 

"  I  shall  not  go  away  for  at  least  a  week,"  said  Ev 
erett,  leaning  against  the  chest  of  drawers,  and  as 
suming  an  indifferent  manner. 

"  It  is  strange  that  thou  findest  colony  life  so  pleas 
ant,"  said  Gerson  Brandt. 

"It  is  restful  and  interesting  to  me,"  Everett  re 
plied,  carelessly. 

As  he  faced  the  two  elders  of  Zanah  he  felt  a  twinge 
of  remorse,  because  his  dearest  purpose  in  life  was  to 
win  from  them  Walda  Kellar.  He  who  had  held  hon 
or  first  experienced  a  certain  amount  of  self-abase 
ment,  but  he  quieted  his  conscience,  as  he  had  many 
times  before,  by  the  thought  that  love  was  the  ruling 
power  of  the  world,  and  that  all  things  should  give 
way  before  it. 

"The  colony  of  Zanah  would  recompense  thee  for 
196 


W  A  L  D  A 

thy  services  in  helping  to  restore  me  to  health,"  said 
Wilhelm  Kellar.  "Wilt  thou  render  to  me  thine  ac 
counting?" 

"  Whatever  aid  you  have  received  from  me  has  not 
been  given  for  money,"  Everett  replied,  in  a  voice  so 
decided  in  its  accents  that  both  his  hearers  felt  there 
was  beneath  his  words  something  which  they  could 
not  understand. 

"  The  colony  never  shirks  the  payment  of  its  debts," 
Wilhelm  Kellar  declared,  proudly. 

"If  you  think  you  owe  me  anything,  accept  the 
amount  as  a  gift  to  Zanah,"  said  Everett. 

A  moment  of  embarrassment  followed,  and  he  was 
glad  to  take  his  leave  rather  hastily.  When  he  reach 
ed  the  inn,  many  of  the  villagers  were  assembled  in 
the  main  room  and  on  the  porches.  The  meeting 
house  bell  sounded  as  he  went  up  the  steps,  and  in 
stantly  the  men  and  women  moved  towards  the  old 
building  on  the  hill.  The  women  drew  heavy  shawls 
over  their  heads  to  protect  them  from  the  rain,  and 
the  men,  who  walked  apart  from  them,  now  and  then 
removed  their  caps  to  shake  off  the  water  which  ran 
down  upon  their  hair  and  shoulders.  No  one  spoke. 
It  was  evident  that  the  Day  of  Warning  had  its  terrors 
for  many  of  the  colonists.  Everett  stood  on  the  top 
most  step  watching  the  little  children,  who  were  min 
iature  reproductions  of  the  men  and  women,  and 
listening  to  the  click  of  the  wooden  shoes  upon  the 


W  A  L  D  A 

board-walk.  He  looked  down  the  street  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  see  Walda  Kellar,  but  he  was  disap 
pointed. 

"Would  I  be  admitted  to  the  meeting-house?"  he 
asked  Diedrich  Werther,  who  was  putting  a  long- 
tailed  coat  over  a  faded  blue-gingham  shirt. 

"  Ja,  ja;  if  thou  desirest  to  attend  a  service  of  much 
solemnity,  come  with  me,"  the  innkeeper  answered. 

The  meeting  -  house  was  crowded  when  they  en 
tered.  Its  interior  was  as  devoid  of  ornament  as  its 
exterior.  The  bare,  white  walls  were  broken  at  regu 
lar  intervals  with  small-paned,  clear  glass  windows, 
which  let  in  but  little  light  on  a  gloomy  day.  A 
broad  middle  aisle  led  straight  to  a  platform  upon 
which  sat  the  thirteen  elders,  for  Everett  was  aston 
ished  to  see  that  Wilhelm  Kellar  had  been  carried  in 
his  arm-chair  from  his  room  in  the  near-by  school- 
house.  The  men  occupied  rude  benches  on  the  right 
side  of  the  meeting-house,  and  the  women  sat  on  the 
left.  The  children  were  placed  in  front,  the  boys  on 
the  men's  side  and  the  girls  on  the  women's.  On  a 
dais  in  the  middle  of  the  elders'  platform  was  a  heavy 
oaken  chair. 

A  few  moments  after  Everett's  entrance  a  group  of 
colonists,  who  still  lingered  at  the  door,  separated  to 
allow  some  one  to  pass  in.  A  hush  fell  upon  the  as 
semblage,  for  Walda  Kellar  was  walking  up  the  aisle. 
Over  her  blue  gown  she  wore  a  long  cloak  with  a  point- 

198 


W  A  L  D  A 

ed  hood  that  she  put  back  from  her  head  as  she  moved 
slowly  forward.  The  damp  air  had  caused  her  hair 
to  curl  in  many  unruly  ringlets  about  her  forehead, 
and  her  pure  skin  had  the  peculiar  clearness  and  trans 
parency  that  a  rainy  day  imparts  to  a  delicate  com 
plexion.  Everett  could  see  only  her  profile.  There  was 
a  majesty  in  her  carriage,  a  consciousness  of  power 
in  her  pose,  that  made  her  seem  far  off  from  him.  His 
heart  beat  wildly  as  he  looked  at  her,  and  when  the 
villagers  knelt  in  acknowledgment  of  her  presence,  he 
obeyed  the  impulse  of  worship,  and  bent  forward  with 
a  despairing  humility  in  his  heart.  He,  to  whom 
prayer  had  long  ceased  to  be  a  daily  habit,  breathed 
his  heart's  sincere  desire  in  a  petition  that  his  love 
might  be  given  its  reward. 

When  Everett  raised  his  eyes  again  Walda  had  as 
cended  the  platform,  and  had  taken  her  place  on  the 
steps  in  front  of  the  chair  which  it  was  plain  was  the 
seat  reserved  for  the  prophetess.  She  had  thrown 
aside  her  cloak,  and  she  sat  with  her  hands  folded  in 
her  lap.  Adolph  Schneider  spoke,  in  German,  the 
words  of  a  droning  invocation.  He  left  the  front  of 
the  platform,  and  Everett  was  surprised  to  see  Walda 
come  forward  as  if  she  were  about  to  speak.  Instead 
of  making  an  address,  she  began  to  sing  a  monot 
onous  hymn,  to  which  her  rich  voice  lent  a  glorious 
melody. 

While  Walda  sang,  the  man  of  the  world  listened 
199 


W  A  L  D  A 

in  breathless  awe.  Her  voice  thrilled  with  the  diapa 
son  of  hope.  It  rose  in  triumphant  notes,  and  then 
fell  with  a  softened  cadence.  His  soul  went  out  to 
hers,  but  in  the  tense  moment  that  followed  her  hymn 
he  felt  as  if  she  were  far  away  from  him.  Her  purity 
rebuked  the  passion  of  love  in  him,  and  yet  he  could 
scarcely  restrain  himself  from  the  impulse  to  claim 
her  there  before  all  Zanah.  She  went  back  to  her 
place  on  the  steps  before  the  chair  of  the  prophetess, 
which  she  was  to  occupy  before  another  week  had 
passed. 

Adolph  Schneider  commanded  the  colonists  to  lis 
ten  with  undivided  attention  to  what  he  had  to  say  to 
them.  It  was  the  Day  of  Warning,  when  all  who  felt 
they  were  not  prepared  for  the  Untersuchung  would 
make  confession.  If  there  was  any  man  or  woman 
who  desired  to  ask  for  promotion  in  the  colony,  the 
time  had  come  to  show  reason  for  a  desire  for  ad 
vancement. 

A  tall,  large-boned  woman  rose  from  her  place  far 
back  in  the  congregation. 

"  I  would  seek  advancement  to  the  first  grade  of  the 
colony,"  she  said. 

"  What  is  thy  ground  for  making  this  request  ?  Why 
dost  thou  believe  that  thou  art  worthy?"  the  Herr 
Doktor  asked. 

"  It  is  five  years  since  I  refused  to  listen  to  the  elders 
of  Zanah  when  they  told  me  of  the  trials  earthly  love 


W  A  L  D  A 

would  bring,"  answered  the  woman,  turning  a  sallow, 
weather-beaten  face  towards  the  platform.  "Now 
have  I  learned  that  marriage  is  a  hard  discipline. 
Otto  Schmidt  hath  vexed  me  every  day  for  forty 
months.  I  have  found  that  the  love  of  man  for  wom 
an  is  fleeting,  and  now  do  I  know  that  I  can  worship 
God  in  singleness  of  heart." 

On  the  men's  side  a  stout  mill-worker  pulled  him 
self  to  his  feet. 

"Christina  hath  not  suffered  the  smallest  tithe  of 
the  mortification  of  spirit  that  hath  been  mine,"  he 
declared,  in  an  emphatic  tone.  "It  was  for  her  sake 
that  I  gave  up  my  place  in  the  first  grade  of  Zanah's 
people,  and  now  do  I  confess  that  the  elders  of  Zanah 
are  wise  when  they  entreat  the  people  to  beware  of 
love.  Love  is  but  the  fire  of  man's  vanity  kindled  to 
flame  by  a  woman's  wanton  eyes." 

"  Nay,  it  is  but  a  woman's  faith  which  is  nourished 
by  man's  false  promises  of  kindness  and  constancy," 
replied  the  woman,  who  was  still  standing. 

"Let  the  brother  and  sister  of  Zanah  be  seated," 
commanded  Adolph  Schneider. 

As  she  obeyed,  Christina  Schmidt  cast  a  glance  of 
hatred  towards  her  husband. 

The  elders  spoke  together.  While  they  were  hold 
ing  their  conference,  Everett  noticed  that  Hans  Peter 
was  creeping  slowly  up  the  aisle  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand.  He  passed  the  envelope  up  to  Adolph  Schnei- 

201 


W  A  L  D  A 

der  and  tiptoed  to  a  vacant  place  on  the  front  seat. 
The  elders  examined  the  letter.  The  colonists  waited 
without  any  show  of  impatience. 

"It  is  my  sad  duty  to  announce  that  one  of  the 
colony  youths  hath  looked  with  longing  eyes  on  a 
maid,  and  that  he  entreats  permission  to  wed  her," 
said  the  Herr  Doktor,  standing  upon  the  edge  of  the 
platform  and  looking  down  at  the  people  with  a  stern 
expression  on  his  face.  His  small  eyes  scanned  the 
women  and  then  the  men.  "I  would  have  Frieda 
Bergen  and  Joseph  Hoff  step  forward." 

It  would  not  have  been  in  human  nature  for  the 
people  to  remain  impassive.  More  than  half  of  them 
turned  their  heads  to  look  for  the  culprits.  Joseph 
Hoff  made  his  way  towards  the  elders.  He  carried 
his  head  high,  and  had  an  air  of  bravado  that  showed 
how  little  he  cared  because  he  was  transgressing  the 
laws  of  the  colony.  He  waited  for  Frieda  Bergen, 
who  came  towards  him  with  her  head  bent  and  her 
cheeks  flaming.  "  Be  of  good  courage,"  he  whispered, 
as  they  faced  Adolph  Schneider. 

"You  two  have  made  for  yourselves  idols  here  on 
earth,"  said  the  president  of  the  colony  in  a  thunder 
ing  tone,  which  frightened  every  youth  and  maiden  in 
the  meeting-house.  "Ye  have  not  heeded  the  behests 
of  Zanah.  How  did  Satan  manage  to  tempt  you  when 
all  the  safeguards  of  Zanah  were  thrown  around  you?" 

Neither  of  the  lovers  spoke. 
202 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  It  is  not  permitted  here  in  the  colony  for  men  and 
women  who  are  unmarried  to  speak  together  except 
on  rare  occasions,  and  never  are  they  allowed  to  talk 
when  no  one  is  near  them ;  how  then  did  ye  two  sur 
render  to  the  tempter?" 

Still  there  was  no  answer. 

"Speak,  Joseph  Hoff!"  Adolph  Schneider  shouted, 
in  a  tone  which  showed  that  he  was  filled  with  indig 
nation. 

"Love  needeth  not  words  or  messengers;  love  is 
carried  on  the  winds  that  blow  across  a  woman's 
cheek,"  said  Joseph. 

"  Nay,  it  is  like  a  prayer  that  cometh  from  the  heart 
of  man  to  the  heart  of  woman,"  faltered  Frieda,  bend 
ing  in  a  low  courtesy. 

"Thou  art  blaspheming!"  Adolph  Schneider  cried, 
looking  on  the  maiden  with  angry  eyes.  "It  is  plain 
that  thou  art  made  mad  by  what  thou  callest  love. 
To  you  two  erring  ones  shall  be  given  a  chance  to  re 
pent  between  now  and  the  Untersuchung,  but  if  your 
eyes  are  then  still  blind  to  your  iniquities  ye  shall  be 
allowed  to  marry.  Ponder  well  upon  the  testimony 
given  here  this  day  by  Otto  and  Christina  Schmidt. 
Human  love  lasteth  but  a  few  years,  and  eternity  is 
not  long  enough  to  blot  out  the  sorrow  it  can  bring  to 
a  human  soul.  Go  hence  to  pray  that  ye  may  be  de 
livered  from  paying  the  hard  penalties  earthly  love 
bringeth  to  all." 

203 


W  A  L  D  A 

Tears  were  streaming  from  the  girl's  eyes  as  she 
walked  back  to  the  women's  side  of  the  building,  but 
in  her  face  was  no  sign  of  repentance. 

Karl  Weisel  and  the  other  elders  had  listened  with 
stolid  faces  while  Adolph  Schneider  rebuked  the  peo 
ple.  After  the  young  lovers  had  taken  their  seats, 
Wilhelm  Kellar  pronounced  a  benediction.  The  col 
onists  filed  slowly  out  of  the  meeting-house.  Everett 
lingered  in  the  hope  that  by  some  happy  circumstance 
he  might  speak  to  Walda,  but  she  was  detained  by  the 
elders,  who  gathered  around  her.  He  had  given  up 
hope  of  getting  near  her  when  it  occurred  to  him  to 
make  Wilhelm  Kellar's  imprudence  an  excuse  by 
which  he  might  at  least  go  closer  to  the  woman  he 
loved.  He  went  forward  to  where  Wilhelm  Kellar 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  platform  steps. 

"You  have  taken  a  great  risk,"  he  said,  to  his  pa 
tient.  "You  should  not  have  come  here  to-day." 

The  old  man  drew  himself  up  with  a  show  of 
strength  and  said  he  was  well  enough  to  make  an  ef 
fort  to  enter  the  Lord's  house. 

Walda,  who  had  smiled  upon  Everett  when  she 
saw  him  coming  towards  her,  put  her  hand  upon  her 
father's  shoulder  and  persuaded  him  to  be  carried 
back  to  his  room.  Gerson  Brandt  and  another  man  of 
Zanah  lifted  the  invalid's  chair.  Everett  opened  the 
side  door  that  they  might  pass  out.  Walda,  who  was 
anxious  for  her  father's  comfort,  would  have  gone  into 

204 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  rain  ahead  of  them,  but  Everett  reminded  her  she 
had  not  put  on  her  cloak.  He  stepped  up  to  the  chair 
of  the  prophetess  without  taking  thought  that  he 
might  be  profaning  the  place  of  the  elders,  and,  taking 
the  long  garment,  put  it  around  her.  Although  Karl 
Weisel  and  the  other  elders  stood  by,  he  calmly  fast 
ened  the  clasp  at  the  neck  and  drew  the  hood  over  the 
head  of  the  prophetess.  Walda,  looking  up  into  his 
face,  beheld  in  the  deep-set  eyes  as  they  rested  upon 
her  something  that  sent  the  blood  to  her  face.  Ger- 
son  Brandt,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  saw  Ev 
erett  hold  the  door  open  while  Walda  went  through, 
and  he  noticed  that  the  strong  face  of  the  man  of  the 
world  had  upon  it  a  look  of  tenderness  such  as  he  had 
never  seen  before. 

Everett  hesitated  a  moment  as  he  buttoned  his 
mackintosh.  He  was  uncertain  whether  to  go  out 
into  the  woods  for  a  long  walk  or  whether  to  return 
to  the  dreary  inn.  He  turned  his  steps  towards  the 
inn,  and  he  had  not  gone  half-way  down  the  hill  be 
fore  he  saw  Walda  coming  from  the  school-house. 
The  prophetess  was  with  Frieda  Bergen,  and  behind 
them  walked  two  of  the  village  "mothers."  Everett 
let  them  pass  him,  but  he  noticed  with  a  pang  that 
Walda  appeared  not  to  see  him  as  he  stood  with  un 
covered  head  while  she  walked  by. 

"The  elders  have  asked  me  to  entreat  thee  to  over 
come  this  love  that  thou  hast  confessed,"  he  heard 

205 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda  say  to  Frieda  Bergen;  but  they  had  gone  be 
yond  ear-shot  before  the  girl  replied. 

They  went  into  the  inn,  whither  Everett  followed 
them  after  a  time.  Walda  drew  Frieda  Bergen  to  the 
settle  near  the  fire  which  Everett  had  kindled. 

"Thou  seemest  so  happy  in  thy  sin  that  I  would 
know  what  is  thy  feeling,"  said  Walda.  "Thou  hast 
the  look  of  one  to  whom  heaven  hath  been  revealed." 

"A  great  joy  hath  come  to  me,  Walda.  If  it  is 
wicked  to  love,  then  would  I  continue  in  my  sin," 
answered  Frieda.  "Hast  thou  never  known  the 
temptation  of  love?  Hast  thou  never  seen  one  who 
maketh  the  world  seem  better  to  thee?" 

"Gerson  Brandt  and  Stephen  Everett  have  taught 
me  much,"  said  Walda,  "but  no  one  hath  ever  tempt 
ed  me  to  forget  God  and  to  worship  man.  Doth  not 
thy  conscience  make  thee  repentant?" 

"Nay,  I  cannot  believe  that  it  is  wicked  to  love." 

"  How  didst  thou  come  to  know  that  thou  lovest?" 

"One  day,  as  we  worked  together,  Joseph  Hoff 
looked  at  me  through  the  trellis  of  a  hop-vine.  He 
was  on  one  side  and  I  was  on  the  other.  My  heart 
trembled,  and  thenceforth  his  face  was  often  before 
me." 

"That  is  but  a  small  matter.  The  stranger  in  Za- 
nah  hath  sometimes  made  my  heart  leap,  but  that 
meaneth  naught." 

"  After  the  hour  in  which  Joseph  Hoff  looked  at  me, 
206 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  day  was  happier  when  I  could  see  him.  I  no  long 
er  rebelled  against  the  hard  tasks  given  me.  I  had 
sweet  dreams,"  declared  Frieda. 

"  I  have  felt  as  thou  sayest  thou  feelest,  but  it  was 
prayer  and  fasting  that  made  the  earth  like  the  outer 
courts  of  heaven.  Frieda,  Frieda,  thou  hast  mistaken 
the  spirit  of  holiness  for  earthly  love." 

Walda  Kellar  leaned  forward,  clasping  her  hands 
together  in  a  gesture  which  betrayed  her  relief  at 
what  she  supposed  was  her  discovery  of  the  true  state 
of  her  companion's  mind. 

"Nay,  nay,  it  was  love  that  made  a  new  life  for 
me,"  insisted  Frieda,  shaking  her  black-capped  head 
and  speaking  in  a  low  voice. 

"How  couldst  thou  know?' 

"One  day  Joseph  spoke  to  me  sweet  words;  he 
touched  my  hand.  Life  became  changed  again.  In 
my  heart  thenceforth  was  a  great  loneliness  except 
when  I  was  near  Joseph  Hoff.  I  trembled  when  he 
touched  my  hand,  and  I  would  have  had  him  always 
by  my  side." 

"Ah,  this  that  thou  tellest  me  is  strange  indeed.  I 
have  known  something  of  this  loneliness, but  it  was 
the  loneliness  of  the  soul  that  seeketh  God  and  fear- 
eth  to  lose  the  way  to  heaven.  Tell  me  something 
more  of  thy  love." 

"Joseph  Hoff  sometimes  said  I  was  like  an  angel  to 
him.  He  spoke  softly  of  love." 

207 


WALDA 

"Thou  wert  wrong  to  listen,"  said  Walda. 

"Thou  hast  spoken  often  with  the  stranger  in 
Zanah." 

"  True,  but  we  talked  of  books,  and  the  woods ;  of  the 
wonders  of  the  heavens  and  the  glories  of  the  earth." 

"We  spoke  few  words,  but  they  gave  me  strange 
strength.  The  earth  seemed  a  pleasanter  place  after 
we  had  talked  together.  Hast  thou  never  known  a 
day  when  suddenly  the  flowers  became  more  beautiful 
and  the  sun  shone  brighter?" 

"Yea,  lately,  since  the  inspiration  hath  come  to  me, 
it  is  as  if  Zanah  were  bathed  in  a  heavenly  radiance. 
But  tell  me  more,  Frieda." 

"The  days  became  pleasant;  every  one  was  joyous. 
There  was  in  my  heart  a  singing  that  made  me  care 
not  for  the  reproofs  of  the  village  mothers." 

"  I  know  what  thou  meanest.  Thy  experiences  are 
not  different  from  mine."  Walda  looked  into  her 
companion's  face  with  a  smile  of  sympathy.  "Dis 
turb  not  thyself  any  longer.  Thou  hast  the  revela 
tion  of  divinity  that  the  Lord  sendeth  to  those  who 
serve  Him.  Why  didst  thou  think  this  new  glory  in 
thy  life  was  an  earthly  love?  Foolish  girl,  I  am  glad 
that  I  did  have  this  chance  to  probe  thy  heart  to 
day." 

"  It  was  not  love  of  God  that  was  in  my  heart,  Wal 
da."  Frieda  looked  into  the  fire  and  shook  her  head 
thoughtfully.  "Else  why  should  I  look  each  day  for 

208 


W  A  L  D  A 

a  glimpse  of  Joseph  Hoff  ?  Why  should  the  simplest 
word  from  him  be  more  to  me  than  the  longest  prayer 
of  any  of  the  elders  ?  Even  if  I  had  thought  in  the  be 
ginning  that  the  tumult  in  my  heart  was  due  to  the 
fervor  of  my  religious  faith,  I  found  out  very  soon 
that  it  was  Joseph  Hoff  I  loved." 

" How  did  the  revelation  come?"  Walda  whispered. 

"One  day,  when  I  went  back  into  the  hay-field  to 
find  a  rake  I  had  left,  Joseph  Hoff,  who  was  working 
on  the  top  of  the  stack,  came  down  to  the  field,  and, 
taking  both  my  hands,  he  kissed  me."  Frieda  lifted 
the  corner  of  her  apron  and  half  hid  her  face  as  she 
made  this  confession. 

"Ah,  that  was  sinful,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Walda, 
her  eyes  wide  with  horror.  "We  of  Zanah  have  been 
taught  that  a  kiss  is  the  password  that  Satan  giveth 
to  weak  and  foolish  men  and  women.  I  hope  that 
thou  didst  rebuke  the  bold  and  sinful  youth." 

Frieda  raised  her  apron  a  little  higher  and  made  no 
reply. 

"What  didst  thou  do  when  he  had  kissed  thee?" 
Walda  asked,  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"I — I — waited  for  him  to  kiss  me  again." 

Walda  drew  away  from  the  girl  beside  her.  "  How 
couldst  thou  let  any  man  touch  thy  lips?"  she  ex 
claimed  in  indignation. 

"Because  I  loved  him." 

"  And  since  Joseph  Hoff  hath  kissed  thee,  hast  thou 

J4  20Q 


W  A  L  D  A 

not  lost  the  sense  of  holiness  that  belongeth  to  the 
people  of  Zanah?" 

"Nay,  every  kiss  hath  added  a  glory  to  the  earth. 
I  care  no  longer  for  heaven  if  I  may  dwell  with  Joseph 
Hoff  here  in  Zanah." 

"Truly,  thy  state  of  mind  doth  alarm  me,  Frieda. 
Thou  hast  many  of  the  emotions  that  have  come  to 
me  since  the  beginning  of  mine  inspiration,  and  yet 
thou  hast  fallen  a  victim  to  the  wiles  of  man.  Pray 
that  thine  eyes  may  be  opened  to  thine  errors." 

"Nay,  I  would  not  pray  that,  lest  my  prayer  should 
be  answered.  If  I  prayed  from  my  heart,  I  would  ask 
that  many  years  might  be  given  me  to  live  and  love 
Joseph  Hoff  here  on  earth."  Frieda  Bergen  rose  and 
walked  away,  but  she  turned  back  to  put  her  hand 
on  Walda  Kellar's  shoulder. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  seem  of  a  stubborn  spirit.  I 
know  that  thou  canst  not  understand  how  the  love  of 
man  can  take  possession  of  a  woman's  heart.  Thou 
wilt  be  satisfied  to  live  aloof  from  the  people  of  Zanah 
that  thou  mayst  be  near  to  God,  but  I  would  rather 
have  the  love  of  Joseph  Hoff  than  the  inspiration  that 
cometh  to  a  prophetess  of  Zanah." 

"It  is  my  duty  to  reprimand  thee  for  thy  sin,  but 
somehow,  when  thou  speakest  of  Joseph  Hoff,  I  cannot 
feel  the  abhorrence  for  thy  transgression  that  should 
fill  my  heart.  I  will  pray  that  the  Lord  may  show 
thee  the  right  way." 

2IO 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda  leaned  her  head  against  the  settle  and 
thought  about  Frieda  Bergen's  state  of  mind,  but  her 
thoughts  were  confused.  Her  reflections  were  inter 
rupted  by  Everett,  who  came  into  the  inn.  Draw 
ing  near  to  the  fireplace,  he  made  a  great  show  of  dry 
ing  his  hat,  which  was  wet  from  the  rain.  Walda  did 
not  seem  to  notice  his  presence. 

"You  appear  to  be  troubled  about  something,"  he 
said. 

"Yea.  A  matter  of  much  moment  hath  been  laid 
before  me,  and  I  have  not  wisdom  enough  to  see  it  in 
all  its  sinfulness." 

"Do  you  suppose  my  worldly  advice  would  help 
you?"  Everett  asked. 

"Nay,  thou  hast  different  measures  of  judgment 
from  those  set  by  the  people  of  Zanah.  Thou  dost 
not  hold  earthly  love  a  sin." 

"No,  I  do  not,  Walda."  Everett  smiled.  "  I  hold 
love — the  earthly  love  you  are  taught  to  try  to  escape 
— as  the  most  precious  gift  the  Creator  gave  to  the 
children  of  men." 

His  voice  was  low,  and  it  betrayed  an  intensity  of 
feeling  that  caused  Walda  to  give  him  a  questioning 
glance.  Everett  looked  at  her  with  so  much  tender 
ness  she  turned  her  head  away. 

"Thou  hast  in  thy  tones  the  same  sound  that  was 
strange  in  Frieda's  voice.  Dost  thou  love?  Hast 
thou  the  same  unreasoning  rapture  as  Joseph  Hoff  ?" 

211 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Not  the  same,  Walda.  I  love  much  more  than 
any  man  in  Zanah." 

Walda's  face  became  as  white  as  the  cap  upon  her 
soft  hair.  She  clasped  her  hands  tightly  together  and 
said,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice: 

"Stephen,  why  hast  thou  never  told  me  of  thy 
love?" 

"Because  I  thought  you  would  not  care  to  hear 
about  it.  Because  it  is  forbidden  to  speak  of  love  in 
Zanah,"  Everett  answered. 

He  seated  himself  beside  her  on  the  settle.  From 
behind  the  high  desk  Diedrich  Werther  now  and  then 
stared  at  them  with  a  glimmer  of  suspicion  in  his 
eyes.  His  recent  contact  with  the  world  at  the  rail 
way  station  evidently  had  made  him  less  trustful  than 
his  fellow-colonists.  Everett  noticed  the  innkeeper's 
watchfulness,  and  therefore  was  careful  not  to  betray 
emotion. 

"Walda,  you  are  not  angry  because  I  have  deceived 
you,  are  you?"  he  said,  when  she  did  not  answer  him. 

"Angry  with  thee,  Stephen?  Nay,  thy  love  can 
not  concern  the  prophetess  of  Zanah."  Her  lip  quiv 
ered,  but  she  held  her  head  high,  and  disdained  to  let 
him  know  that  the  heart  beneath  her  kerchief  was 
throbbing  so  that  her  words  were  almost  smothered 
in  her  throat.  "Thy  confession  did  cause  me  to  be 
abashed  for  a  moment.  I  had  never  thought  that 
out  in  the  world  some  woman  loved  thee." 

212 


W  A  L  D  A 

She  rose  to  her  feet  as  she  spoke,  and  she  would 
have  gone  away  without  another  word  but  he  boldly 
caught  her  hand  and  pulled  her  back  upon  the  settle. 
Diedrich  Werther  looked  on  with  jaw  dropped  and 
pipe  suspended  at  elbow-length,  but  Everett  defied 
him. 

"You  misunderstand  me,  Walda.  I  want  to  ex 
plain  to  you,  but  this  is  not  the  place." 

"  I — I  would  not  hear  what  thou  hast  to  say  about 
thy  love,  Stephen,"  she  said,  with  a  faint  smile. 
"  Frieda  hath  told  me  her  story,  and  it  is  enough  for 
me  to  think  of  in  the  watches  of  the  night.  Detain 
me  not.  I  must  pray  for  Frieda  Bergen.  I  must 
seek  divine  light  for  the  understanding  of  mortal 
weaknesses,  of  which  love  is  said  to  be  the  most  dan 
gerous.  Verily,  to-day  I  fear  the  inspiration  hath 
been  withdrawn  from  me,  for  I  am  dull  of  compre 
hension." 

Before  Everett  could  reply,  Gerson  Brandt  entered 
the  room.  The  school-master  came  towards  them 
with  a  stern  look  upon  his  face. 

"Why  dost  thou  talk  here  with  the  prophetess  of 
Zanah?"  he  said,  addressing  Everett.  "Thou  canst 
have  nothing  to  say  that  will  be  worthy  of  her  hear 
ing,  since  she  is  close  to  heaven  and  thou  art  of  the 
wicked  world." 

His  long  hair  was  wet  as  it  lay  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  his  thin  face  was  deeply  lined. 

213 


W  A  L  D  A 

"We  were  talking  of  love — earthly  love,"  Walda 
said,  leaving  her  place  beside  Everett.  "Gerson 
Brandt,  he  hath  just  told  me  that  he  loveth." 

The  school-master's  tall,  gaunt  form  swayed  be 
neath  the  burden  of  a  great  emotion. 

"Tell  me,  sir,  thou  hast  not  dared  to  speak  of  love 
to  the  prophetess  of  Zanah?"  he  cried. 

"Yes,  I  have  spoken  of  love,"  said  Everett,  going 
to  the  farther  side  of  the  fireplace.  "Yes,  I  have 
spoken  of  love."  He  was  again  the  cool,  well-poised 
man  of  the  world.  Carelessly  he  took  up  an  old  pair 
of  bellows,  as  he  added:  "  But  you  need  not  fear.  The 
prophetess  of  Zanah  did  not  care  to  hear  about  my 
love." 

"Walda,  thou  wouldst  not  listen  to  any  man  who 
would  dare  to  speak  of  love  to  thee,  wouldst  thou?" 
Gerson  Brandt  asked,  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

"Disturb  not  thyself,  Gerson  Brandt,"  Walda  an 
swered.  "What  harm  can  there  be  in  Stephen  Ev 
erett's  declaration  that  he  loveth  a  woman  out  in  the 
world?" 

An  expression  of  relief  passed  over  the  face  of 
the  school  -  master.  Beads  of  perspiration  stood 
upon  his  white  forehead.  He  was  shaking  so  that 
he  had  to  steady  himself  against  the  end  of  the 
settle. 

"Thy  time  of  inspiration  is  so  near  that  thou 
shouldst  not  speak  to  the  stranger,"  he  said,  in  a  soft- 

214 


W  A  L  D  A 

ened  tone.  "Thou  art  close  to  heaven,  and  it  is  not 
wise  for  thee  to  commune  with  any  man." 

"  Must  I  speak  no  more  with  thee,  Gerson  Brandt?" 
Walda  looked  at  him  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  deep 
affection  shining  in  her  eyes.  Everett  watched  her 
as  she  addressed  the  school  -  master.  The  childish 
heart  and  the  unawakened  soul  associated  with  the 
majestic  form  of  a  woman  had  fascinated  him  when 
he  first  came  to  Zanah,  but  he  saw  that  the  face,  once 
as  placid  as  a  nun's,  showed  the  inner  disquietude 
that  is  the  recompense  of  those  who  come  into  a 
knowledge  of  the  great  emotions  of  life. 

"Thou  wouldst  better  dwell  alone  until  the  great 
day  of  the  Untersuchung,"  Gerson  Brandt  said  to  Wal 
da.  "Go  now  to  thy  closet,  where  thou  canst  pray 
until  thou  forgettest  what  thou  hast  heard  of  earthly 
love." 

Walda  started  to  obey  the  counsel  of  the  school 
master,  but  she  hesitated  after  she  had  gone  to  the 
door.  She  glanced  at  Everett.  His  tall  form  was 
outlined  in  the  fire-light,  but  she  could  not  see  his 
face,  which  was  in  the  shadow. 

"  I  would  speak  a  last  word  with  Stephen  Everett," 
she  said.  Gerson  Brandt  stood  by  the  door  while 
she  went  near  to  Everett. 

"Since  this  may  be  my  last  meeting  with  thee,  I 
would  offer  thee  gratitude  from  my  heart  for  all 
that  thou  hast  done  for  my  father  and  for  me,"  she 


W  A  L  D  A 

said.  "Thou  hast  helped  me  to  gain  wisdom,  Ste 
phen." 

"Do  not  speak  of  gratitude,  Walda.  You  cannot 
say  good-bye  to  me  here,  for  I  shall  see  you  again." 

"Nay,  I  may  not  be  permitted  to  see  thee  again." 
She  stopped,  as  if  she  were  taking  care  to  speak  wisely. 
"It  is  my  prayer,  Stephen,  that  thy  love  shall  bring 
happiness  to  thee  and  to  the  woman  upon  whom  thou 
hast  set  thine  heart." 

She  was  gone  before  she  could  hear  Everett's  reply. 


XVI 

THE  evening  of  the  Day  of  Warning  closed  in  dark 
and  dreary.  The  rain  stopped  and  a  high  wind 
came  up.  After  tea  in  the  inn,  Everett  walked  up  and 
down  the  porch.  The  village  square  and  the  winding 
street  were  deserted.  At  long  intervals  lights  gleam 
ed  from  fast-curtained  windows.  At  first  he  took  it 
for  granted  that  Walda  would  not  make  her  night 
ly  visit  to  the  grave  of  Marta  Bachmann.  When  he 
thought  over  the  matter,  however,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  might  be  well  to  walk  out  towards  the  cem 
etery.  He  knew  the  fanaticism  of  the  colonists 
caused  them  to  be  punctilious  in  the  smallest  religious 
observances.  He  watched  for  Walda  in  vain.  After 
Gerson  Brandt's  exhibition  of  evident  unfriendliness 
to  him  he  knew  that  precautions  might  be  taken  to 
prevent  Walda  from  passing  the  gasthaus.  As  he  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  he  decided  that  a  walk  out  through 
the  woods  to  the  shore  of  the  lake  might  possibly  be 
rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of  the  prophetess.  He  met  no 
one  on  the  way  to  the  cemetery,  but  when  he  reached 
the  gate  he  could  dimly  discern  the  forms  of  two  wom 
en  who  were  standing  by  the  grave  of  Marta  Bach- 

217 


W  A  L  D  A 

mann.  He  guessed  that  Mother  Kaufmann  had  been 
sent  with  Walda.  A  tall  hedge  surrounded  the  God's- 
acre  of  Zanah,  and  he  followed  this  evergreen  wall  to 
the  point  where  it  was  nearest  the  grave  of  the  dead 
prophetess.  He  was  careful  that  his  presence  should 
not  be  discovered  by  the  colony  "mother." 

An  old  oak-tree  spread  its  branches  over  the  little 
plot  of  ground  in  which  the  tomb  of  Marta  Bachmann 
was  situated.  The  wind  waved  the  branches  of  this 
tree  and  blew  a  shower  of  brown  leaves  upon  the  two 
women.  It  wound  Walda's  cloak  about  her  and  tore 
the  shawl  from  Mother  Kaufmann's  shoulders. 

"This  is  a  night  to  make  the  spirits  of  the  dead 
walk  about  their  old  haunts,"  said  Mother  Kauf 
mann. 

"Put  superstition  away  from  thee,"  Walda  an 
swered.  "If  thou  hast  fixed  thy  faith  on  God,  evil 
spirits  cannot  harm  thee." 

Mother  Kaufmann  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead 
while  she  peered  about  her,  as  if  to  discover  some 
chance  ghost. 

"Dost  thou  not  hear  footsteps  among  the  dried 
leaves?"  she  asked  Walda. 

"Nay,  Mother  Kaufmann.  Why  art  thou  so  af 
frighted?"  the  girl  replied.  At  that  moment  a  gust 
of  wind  almost  swept  them  from  their  feet.  Mother 
Kaufmann  uttered  a  scream  of  terror  and  pointed  to 
a  far  corner  of  the  graveyard  where  a  white  form  was 

218 


W  A  L  D  A 

moving  about  among  the  graves.  She  did  not  wait 
to  find  out  who  or  what  the  unexpected  apparition 
might  be.  Gathering  her  skirts  in  her  hand  she  fled, 
leaving  Walda  alone  beside  the  grave.  Everett  step 
ped  through  the  hedge  and  spoke  gently  to  Walda. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "  I  will  find  out  what 
sort  of  a  ghost  has  frightened  Mother  Kaufmann." 
He  walked  towards  the  place,  where  what  appeared  to 
be  a  headless  form  wrapped  in  a  sheet  was  moving 
back  and  forth.  When  he  came  near  to  it  he  saw  that 
it  was  a  most  substantial  substance,  for  Hans  Peter 
had  borrowed  a  white  rubber  blanket,  through  which 
he  had  thrust  his  head,  and  thus  improvised  a  most 
serviceable  rain-coat. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  Everett  asked,  in  an 
angry  tone  of  voice.  "Do  you  know  that  you  have 
scared  one  of  the  colony  women?" 

"  Thou  hast  no  concern  in  what  my  errand  may  be," 
said  the  simple  one,  gathering  his  rubber  blanket 
around  him  and  calmly  seating  himself  upon  the  near 
est  gravestone.  "If  Mother  Kaufmann  had  been 
scared  to  death  there  is  none  in  Zanah  who  would  have 
wept  upon  her  bier." 

"You  had  better  go  back  to  the  village,"  Everett 
advised,  as  he  with  difficulty  restrained  a  laugh. 

"  Nay,  it  is  thou  who  hast  no  occasion  to  linger  near 
the  cemetery,"  the  simple  one  replied.  "  I  have  come 
to  wait  for  Walda  Kellar." 

219 


W  A  L  D  A 

Another  gust  of  wind,  even  stronger  than  the  pre 
ceding  one,  carried  Everett's  hat  away,  and  while  he 
searched  for  it  in  the  dark  a  tree  was  uprooted.  It 
fell  with  a  crash  that  carne  from  the  direction  of 
Marta  Bachmann's  grave,  towards  which  Everett  ran 
in  a  frenzy  of  fear  lest  Walda  had  been  injured. 

"Stephen,  Stephen,"  he  heard  her  call.  She  took 
a  few  steps  towards  him,  and  in  a  moment  his  arms 
were  around  her. 

"You  are  not  hurt,  are  you?"  he  said,  putting  his 
right  hand  upon  her  head,  and  drawing  it  close  to  him 
until  it  rested  on  his  shoulder.  He  felt  her  tremble, 
and  he  said: 

"You  are  quite  safe  now.     I  will  take  you  home." 

The  simple  one  had  come  near.  Without  glancing 
towards  Stephen  and  Walda,  he  went  to  Marta  Bach 
mann's  grave,  and,  climbing  over  the  branches  of  the 
fallen  tree,  began  to  search  for  something.  Everett 
gently  put  Walda  away  from  him  lest  the  simple  one 
should  notice  them.  Then,  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
he  led  her  through  the  hedge  and  along  the  road  until 
they  came  to  the  open  place  by  the  lake. 

"Stephen,  I  have  shown  a  grievous  weakness  and 
lack  of  faith,"  said  Walda,  catching  her  breath,  and 
drawing  her  hand  from  his.  "The  prophetess  of 
Zanah  should  not  know  fear,  and  yet  I  felt  a  strength 
and  comfort  in  thine  aid  that  my  prayers  have  never 
given  me." 

220 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda  raised  her  face  to  him,  and  again  he  put  his 
arms  around  her. 

"Walda,  I  mean  to  take  care  of  you  always,"  he 
said.  "  I  shall  never  let  you  go.  Cannot  you  under 
stand  that  it  is  meant  you  should  belong  to  me?"  He 
kissed  her  on  the  lips,  and,  abashed  and  trembling,  she 
drew  away  from  him. 

"  Stephen,  thou  dost  betray  my  trust  in  thee.  Why 
wouldst  thou  profane  the  lips  of  a  prophetess  of 
Zanah?"  she  cried.  She  put  her  hands  over  her  heart, 
as  if  to  still  its  wild  beating,  and  her  eyes  were  wide 
with  fear  and  astonishment. 

"Walda,  I  love  you.  I  think  I  have  loved  you  ever 
since  the  first  day  I  came  to  Zanah.  I  have  kissed 
you  because  my  heart  claims  you  from  all  the  world. 
Life  without  you  means  nothing  to  me.  Can't  you 
love  me,  Walda?" 

"I  know  not  what  it  means  to  love.  I  have  been 
warned  that  it  is  selfish  and  sinful  for  men  and 
women  to  fix  all  their  thoughts  upon  each  other.  Oh, 
Stephen,  what  have  I  done  that  thou  shouldst  speak 
thus  to  me?" 

"You  have  made  me  centre  all  my  hopes  in  you. 
You  have  won  my  reverence.  I  know  I  am  unworthy 
to  touch  your  hand,  but  this  love  that  has  come  to  me 
gives  me  a  supreme  courage.  Walda,  surely  your 
heart  answers  mine.  Words  are  so  clumsy  that,  now 
that  my  tongue  should  tell  you  how  great  and  holy  a 


W  A  L  D  A 

thing  is  the  love  of  a  man  for  a  woman,  I  am  but  a  poor 
supplicant."  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  and 
drew  her  towards  him.  Again  he  kissed  her,  and, 
instead  of  resenting  the  caress,  she  hid  her  face  upon 
his  shoulder.  He  held  her  thus  for  a  moment.  He 
pushed  back  the  white  cap  and  softly  touched  her 
hair. 

"  Walda,  do  you  know,  I  have  often  been  afraid  of 
the  prophetess  of  Zanah,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "and 
if  it  were  not  for  my  great  love  I  would  not  have  the 
courage  to  covet  you  for  my  wife.  Love  is  stronger 
than  reason,  and  so  I  dare  covet  you  for  my  own  for 
ever.  You  are  mine,  for  I  could  not  love  you  so  if  you 
were  not  the  woman  destined  to  rule  my  life.  Can 
not  you  find  in  your  heart  a  little  love  for  me?" 

"I  know  not  what  is  in  my  heart,"  she  answered. 
"Thy  kisses  make  me  ashamed,  Stephen,  and  yet  my 
heart  is  glad.  This  night  my  weakness  hath  been  re 
vealed  to  me.  Even  now  I  cling  to  thee  when  I  should 
bid  thee  go  away  from  me." 

"  You  do  love  me,  Walda.  You  must  love  me.  It 
was  fate  that  brought  me  to  Zanah  to  find  you.  I 
know  that  all  my  years  I  have  been  waiting  for  you. 
You  have  been  kept  for  me  here  in  Zanah.  Cannot 
you  begin  to  comprehend  that  love  is  the  birthright 
of  every  man  and  woman?  Zanah  would  have  cheat 
ed  you,  but  now  it  cannot  separate  us." 

"Thy  words  make  me  think  of  my  duty,  Stephen." 

222 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda's  voice  trembled.  "Since  thou  hast  kissed  me, 
I  am  no  longer  fit  to  be  the  prophetess  of  Zanah." 

"You  will  be  a  wife  instead  of  a  prophetess,  Walda. 
You  can  still  be  an  instrument  of  the  Lord,  for  you 
will  make  the  world  outside  better  for  your  presence." 

She  was  very  quiet  for  a  moment.  It  was  as  if  she 
had  not  heard  him. 

"Is  it  love  that  maketh  my  heart  beat?  Is  it 
love  that  casteth  out  fear  while  thou  hast  thine  arms 
around  me?"  she  asked,  presently.  "What  meaning 
is  there  in  a  kiss  that  it  should  make  me  ashamed  and 
yet  happy,  Stephen?  Verily,  thy  kisses  are  not  like 
the  kisses  of  good-fellowship  that  the  elders  give  one 
another  at  the  Untersuchung ;  they  are  not  like  the 
kisses  the  mothers  have  pressed  upon  my  forehead." 

"Of  course  they  are  not,"  Everett  said,  and  he 
laughed  aloud  in  the  joy  the  knowledge  of  her  love 
gave  him.  "Look  up,  Walda,  and  let  me  kiss  you 
again,  and  you  will  learn  that  the  kiss  of  love  is  the 
token  that  unlocks  the  hearts  of  men  and  women." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes,  and  their  lips  met. 

"  Thou  speakest  truly,  Stephen,"  Walda  said.  "  Let 
us  go  back  to  the  village.  I  would  think  of  thee  and 
of  love  in  solitude  and  with  much  prayer.  This  hour 
hath  robbed  me  of  the  mantle  of  the  prophetess." 

"But  it  has  given  you  the  highest  heritage  of  life. 
It  is  better  to  be  a  wife  than  a  prophetess,  Walda." 


XVII 

KNEELING  by  the  window  in  her  bare  little  room, 
Walda  tried  to  pray  after  the  manner  of  Zanah, 
yet  no  words  of  penitence  came  to  the  lips  that  had 
been  touched  by  a  lover's  kiss.  The  soul  that  the 
good  elders  had  turned  towards  heaven  as  a  mirror 
upon  which  the  divine  will  might  be  reflected  held  an 
earthly  image.  A  human  love  was  enshrined  in  the 
heart  that  had  been  consecrated  to  God.  As  the  girl 
prostrated  herself,  the  discipline  of  long  years  of  re 
ligious  training  was  forgotten.  Her  Zanah  life  fell 
from  her.  New  emotions  swept  over  her,  submerging 
her  old  character  and  bringing  strange,  sweet  hopes. 
The  soul  of  the  priestess  was  consumed  by  the  su 
preme  passion  of  earth,  and  in  its  place  flamed  the  soul 
of  a  woman. 

One  by  one  the  lowly  duties  that  had  occupied  her 
days  came  up  before  her.  She  recalled  the  pious 
fervor  that  had  made  them  pleasant.  Looking  back 
to  the  time  when  Everett's  chance  words  in  the  sick 
room  had  tempted  her  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  sky 
and  field,  she  realized  how  far  she  had  grown  away 
from  her  former  self  since  the  almost  imperceptible 

224 


W  A  L  D  A 

beginning  of  the  fuller  life  which  she  had  unconscious 
ly  entered.  Kneeling  there  in  the  darkness,  for  the 
first  time  in  all  her  life  she  rebelled  against  the  laws 
of  Zanah.  Her  youth  and  womanhood  demanded  the 
privilege  of  accepting  human  love.  Everett's  influ 
ence  was  over  her,  and  she  gave  little  thought  to  the 
future.  It  was  enough  to  feel  the  exaltation  of  love, 
to  comprehend  that  she  stood  at  the  threshold  of  the 
ultimate  mystery  of  life.  She  looked  out  at  the  stars 
that  shone  above  the  far  horizon.  She  felt  that  she 
had  ceased  to  belong  to  Zanah.  It  was  as  if  she 
had  entered  into  a  larger  kinship  with  all  nature. 
Love  had  wrought  the  miracle  that  puts  away 
all  one's  years  and  leads  the  soul  into  a  new  exist 
ence  independent  of  the  past,  expectant  of  the 
future. 

Long  after  the  village  had  gone  to  sleep  Everett 
stayed  out  in  the  starlight,  thinking  of  the  weeks  he 
had  spent  in  Zanah,  and  of  the  woman  who  would 
henceforth  claim  his  life's  allegiance.  He  dreamed 
of  the  future  that  was  his  and  Walda's.  He  saw  the 
girl's  stunted  life  expanding  under  its  new  environ 
ments.  His  thoughts  wandered  over  imaginary  years, 
and  he  beheld  her  clad  in  the  ripened  charm  of  ma 
turity.  He  saw  the  light  of  happiness  in  her  eyes  re 
flected  in  the  eyes  of  their  children.  Sometimes,  per 
haps,  they  would  look  back  to  Zanah  and  thank  God 
that  among  the  middle-aged  mothers  with  dwarfed 
ts  225 


W  A  L  D  A 

minds  and  cramped  souls  there  was  none  that  bore  the 
name  of  Walda  Kellar. 

For  Walda  the  next  day  dawned  with  mysterious 
splendor.  Zanah  had  fallen  under  a  spell  of  enchant 
ment,  yet  as  the  village  awoke  to  life  all  its  influences 
once  more  stole  over  her.  Looking  out  of  her  window, 
she  began  to  remember  that  she  had  been  the  proph 
etess  of  Zanah.  She  watched  the  men  and  boys  walk 
leisurely  towards  the  factory.  Ox-teams  creaked  up 
the  narrow  street.  The  children  solemnly  wandered 
schoolward.  She  could  no  longer  put  her  father  or 
Gerson  Brandt  from  her  thoughts.  The  realization 
that  she  would  give  them  pain  burst  upon  her. 

She  tried  to  think  what  Everett's  love  meant  to  her, 
but  she  found  it  impossible  to  get  beyond  the  one  idea 
that  she  was  to  be  unfaithful  to  the  trust  that  the  peo 
ple  of  Zanah  had  put  in  her.  She  did  not  shrink  from 
facing  the  change  in  her  position  in  the  colony,  but 
she  could  not  understand  what  her  future  would  be. 
She  recalled  that  Everett  had  taken  it  for  granted  she 
would  leave  Zanah,  but  she  knew  she  could  not  desert 
her  father,  even  though  a  greater  love  than  that  which 
she  bore  for  him  might  call  her  away.  She  was  not 
sad,  however,  for  underneath  her  new  anxieties  there 
was  the  consciousness  of  the  revelation  of  love,  the 
recognition  of  divinity  that  was  so  different  from  the 
one  to  which  she  had  looked  forward  since  her  child 
hood.  It  gradually  came  over  her  that  the  inspira- 

226 


W  A  L  D  A 

tion  she  had  felt  came  through  a  human  medium,  and 
not  directly  from  heaven.  She  fell  upon  her  knees 
before  the  low  table  that  held  her  little  German  Bible. 
She  tried  to  pray  that  she  might  know  the  will  of  God, 
but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  plead  that  she  would 
have  power  to  cast  out  from  her  heart  the  human  love 
which  had  brought  to  her  life  the  holy  exaltation  she 
had  hoped  to  obtain  through  rigid  conformity  to  the 
creed  of  Zanah. 

Walda  went  out  of  the  house  of  the  women  and 
stood  in  the  little  street,  in  which  she  felt  suddenly 
that  she  was  a  stranger.  She  turned  her  steps  tow 
ards  the  hill,  for  she  obeyed  the  impulse  to  go  to  her 
father.  Wilhelm  Kellar  was  sitting  in  the  window 
whence  Walda  had  looked  so  many  times  at  the  far-off 
bluffs.  He  was  reading  his  Bible,  and  as  Walda  en 
tered  the  room  he  was  mildly  rebuking  Piepmatz,  who 
was  singing  the  doxology  and  the  love-song,  mingled 
in  such  a  medley  as  was  never  before  heard  from  the 
throat  of  any  bird. 

"Peace  be  with  thee,  daughter,"  he  said,  taking  off 
his  horn  spectacles  and  stretching  out  his  thin  hand  to 
her. 

Walda  clasped  his  hands,  and  her  eyes  fell  beneath 
his  glance.  "Thou  art  feeling  better,  I  hope?"  she 
said,  sinking  upon  a  stool  that  was  just  beneath  Piep- 
matz's  cage. 

"The  knowledge  that  the  day  of  the  Untersuchung 
227 


W  A  L  D  A 

is  so  near  giveth  me  new  life,"  declared  the  old  man. 
"To-day  I  am  full  of  gratitude  because  the  Lord  hath 
kept  thee  safe  from  the  wiles  of  men.  I  have  given 
thanks  unto  the  Lord  that  thou  art  to  be  the  proph 
etess." 

Walda's  face  flushed  and  then  became  pale.  Her 
heart  beat  so  that  she  could  not  answer. 

"Come  near  to  me,  Walda,"  her  father  said.  "I 
would  tell  thee  that  thou  hast  crowned  my  life  with 
happiness,  that  thou  hast  atoned  for  the  sin  of  the 
mother  who  bore  thee." 

Walda  knelt  before  him  and  hid  her  face  upon  his 
knee. 

"Nay,  nay,  father,"  she  cried,  "I  am  unworthy  of 
thy  trust.  I  am  but  a  weak  woman  such  as  thou 
sayest  my  mother  was." 

"It  is  right  that  thou  shouldst  feel  humble,  my 
daughter,"  the  old  man  replied,  putting  both  hands 
upon  her  head.  "But  thou  hast  not  sinned  in  de 
ceiving  those  that  trust  thee.  Thou  hast  not  known 
the  temptations  of  a  human  love." 

"Father,  father!"  Walda  raised  her  head  and 
looked  up  with  tearful  eyes. 

A  knock  sounded  on  the  door,  and  Hans  Peter,  still 
tapping  on  the  door-jamb  with  one  of  his  gourds, 
crossed  the  threshold. 

"The  elders  have  sent  me  to  tell  thee  they  would 
consult  with  thee.  They  bade  me  make  ready  the 

228 


W  A  L  D  A 

ink-horn  and  the  papers,  as  they  have  business  of 
much  importance,"  he  announced. 

Walda  went  away  from  her  father's  room  with  her 
confession  still  unspoken.  She  lingered  for  a  moment 
on  the  school-house  porch,  for  she  felt  uncertain  what 
to  do  with  her  day.  For  the  first  time  in  all  her  Zanah 
life  she  had  no  inviting  task  before  her.  She  was  al 
ready  removed  from  the  calm  routine  of  duty.  Or 
dinarily  she  would  have  gone  to  study  the  heavy  books 
kept  in  the  elders'  room  which  occupied  a  little  wing 
of  the  meeting-house,  but  as  she  looked  at  the  door, 
which  stood  invitingly  open,  she  felt  that  she  would  no 
longer  need  to  be  familiar  with  the  annals  of  former 
prophetesses  and  the  discourses  of  the  elders  long 
since  sanctified  by  good  works.  She  had  a  sense  of 
being  outside  the  colony.  A  pang  of  homesickness 
made  her  sink  upon  the  bench  and  look  out  upon  the 
quiet  valley. 

The  years  had  slipped  by  so  noiselessly  that  she  had 
come  into  womanhood  without  realizing  the  changes 
wrought  by  time.  When  she  was  a  child,  the  colonists 
had  labored  in  simple  harmony  and  humble  faith, 
content  to  work  for  the  common  welfare.  Each  sea 
son  their  harvests  had  been  more  abundant,  their 
vineyards  more  fruitful,  their  lands  more  extensive. 
In  the  midst  of  this  well-preserved  plenty  she  had  been 
happy,  although  she  had  often  vexed  the  "mothers" 
by  her  sudden  impulses  and  hasty  actions.  Beneath 

229 


W  A  L  D  A 

the  kerchief  crossed  upon  her  breast  now  an  eager, 
restless  heart  beat,  and  she  comprehended  that  all  the 
teachings  of  the  good  elders  had  not  altered  her  in 
tense  nature.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Zanah  had  been 
metamorphosed  since  the  coming  of  the  early  sum 
mer-time  when  she  had  looked  forward  to  the  autumn 
with  a  large  hope  for  the  final  step  towards  her  com 
plete  consecration  to  the  service  of  God  and  the  col 
ony.  She  felt  that,  somehow,  mysterious  influences 
were  at  work.  There  was  a  general  discontent.  It 
had  been  a  bad  year  for  both  the  mills  and  the  harvest 
fields,  and  she  had  represented  hope  and  wisdom  to 
the  colonists.  Tears  came  to  her  eyes  when  she 
thought  that  she  had  betrayed  the  trust  of  Zanah,  and 
yet  underneath  her  remorse  was  the  consciousness 
that  she  was  being  led  by  the  divine  power  in  which 
she  had  trusted.  Love  flamed  beneath  every  shifting 
emotion. 

Through  her  tears  Walda  gazed  down  at  the  quaint 
village.  The  low  -  roofed  stone  houses  were  almost 
hidden  beneath  the  vines  and  shrubbery  that  were 
turning  to  gorgeous  color  with  the  magic  touch  of  the 
first  frosts  which  had  come  early.  Beyond  the  village 
the  little  valley  melted  into  the  plain,  which  rolled 
away  to  the  far-off  bluffs.  The  fields  were  brown 
and  gold,  as  the  gleaners  had  left  them  after  the  har 
vests,  except  here  and  there  where  the  rich,  black 
earth  had  been  turned  up  by  the  plough.  Cattle 

230 


W  A  L  D  A 

grazed  beside  the  placid  river  that  flowed  almost  im 
perceptibly  onward  to  the  Mississippi.  The  sunlight, 
mellowed  by  the  autumn  haze,  glorified  even  the  com 
monest  every-day  things.  The  scene  had  the  beauty 
that  gave  it  unreality.  As  her  eyes  rested  upon  the 
familiar  landscape  Walda  felt  a  vague  fear  that  it 
might  vanish,  since  she  had  forfeited  her  right  to  re 
main  in  it  as  one  of  the  faithful  colonists.  While  she 
was  looking  down  the  wavering  street  she  saw  Gerson 
Brandt  slowly  climbing  the  hill.  He  had  taken  off 
the  broad-rimmed  hat  that  distinguished  him  from 
the  other  men  of  Zanah,  and  Walda  noticed  with  a 
pang  that  his  face  had  the  stamp  of  pain  upon  it.  He 
paused  half-way  up  the  hill  to  look  back  upon  the 
village,  and  the  girl,  whose  perceptions  had  been 
quickened  with  her  recognition  of  an  earthly  love, 
noticed  that  the  school-master's  tall  form  was  more 
stooped  than  usual.  When  he  resumed  his  walk  tow 
ards  the  school-house  Gerson  Brandt  caught  sight  of 
Walda,  and  his  face  took  on  an  expression  of  glad 
ness. 

"  Providence  is  kind  to  give  me  yet  another  chance 
to  speak  with  thee  before  the  Untersuchung,"  he  said, 
pausing  before  her.  He  saw  that  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  which  refused  to  meet  his  glance.  "Thou 
hast  no  sorrow?  Surely,  I  know  that  nothing  can  dis 
turb  thee,  now  that  thou  art  so  near  to  thy  Father  in 
heaven.  Yet  why  dost  thou  weep?" 

231 


W  A  L  D  A 

He  pushed  the  long  hair  back  from  his  forehead 
with  a  trembling  hand  while  he  waited  for  her  reply, 
but  she  remained  silent,  with  only  her  profile  turned  to 
him.  The  white  kerchief  on  her  breast  moved  with 
her  quick  breathing. 

"Canst  thou  not  answer  me,  Walda?"  he  asked,  in 
the  tender  tone  that  she  remembered  from  her  child 
hood. 

Walda  rested  her  elbows  on  the  back  of  the  porch 
seat,  and,  with  her  chin  in  her  hands,  shook  her  white- 
capped  head.  The  tears  began  to  fall  so  rapidly  that 
she  dared  not  try  to  speak.  Gerson  Brandt  sank  upon 
the  seat  opposite  her. 

"  It  would  be  foolish  for  me  to  offer  thee  solace  for 
thine  aching  heart,  for  I  know  that  thou,  who  art  the 
prophetess  of  Zanah,  no  longer  cravest  human  sym 
pathy.  Forgive  me  for  forgetting  that  thou  art  no 
longer  the  colony  maiden  over  whom  I  have  felt  a  care 
all  these  years.  Yet  thy  tears  are  no  more  sacred  to 
me  now  than  they  were  in  thine  earliest  childhood, 
Walda.  Thy  griefs  were  always  felt  by  me."  Gerson 
Brandt  leaned  forward  as  if  he  would  read  what  was 
in  Walda's  heart,  and  he  paled  with  a  formless  fear. 

"Thy  tears  distress  me,"  he  said,  presently,  "and 
yet  I  know  that  it  is  but  natural  thou  shouldst  feel 
awe-stricken  and  oppressed  with  a  weight  of  respon 
sibility,  now  that  thou  art  so  near  to  thy  consecra 
tion." 

232 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Speak  not  so.  Thy  words  smite  me,"  exclaimed 
Walda,  turning  towards  him  and  blushing  scarlet  as 
she  met  his  eyes.  "  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  the  proph 
etess.  I — I — I  am  sorely  troubled."  She  put  her 
face  upon  her  arms  and  sobbed. 

"To  them  whom  the  Lord  maketh  most  strong  He 
revealeth  weakness,"  the  school-master  replied. 

"I  shall  need  much  strength,"  said  Walda,  con 
trolling  herself  with  an  effort. 

"Yea,  that  is  true,"  agreed  Gerson  Brandt.  "My 
prayers  will  help  to  support  thee,  for  thou  art  always 
in  my  mind.  Much  have  I  rejoiced  to  know  that  thou 
hast  escaped  all  danger  from  earthly  love.  Ah,  now 
that  thou  hast  safely  passed  thy  period  of  probation 
nothing  can  befall  thee." 

"  Gerson  Brandt,  tell  me  what  would  have  happened 
if  I  had  found  an  earthly  love?"  asked  Walda,  turn 
ing  to  him  with  an  intensity  of  interest  that  was  but 
lightly  disguised. 

"Why  wouldst  thou  waste  time  talking  of  such  an 
unprofitable  subject  now  at  this  holy  season?  It  is  a 
sacrilege  to  link  the  name  of  the  prophetess  of  Zanah 
with  an  earthly  love." 

The  school-master  was  looking  far  away  as  he  an 
swered,  and  he  did  not  see  that  his  words  caused  the 
girl  to  clasp  her  hands  tightly  and  to  bite  her  full,  red 
lips. 

"Tell  me,  is  human  love  such  a  wicked  thing,  after 
233 


W  A  L  D  A 

all?  Thou  didst  once  speak  to  me  as  if  thou  hadst 
known  it,  and  thou  canst  tell  me  whether  it  hath  in 
it  something  of  the  divine  quality.  If  I  had  loved, 
wouldst  thou  have  condemned  me  as  severely  as  would 
those  of  the  colonists  who  live  like  the  cattle  on  the 
fields,  feeling  none  of  the  mystery  and  the  glory  of 
life?" 

"If  thou  hadst  loved  any  man  I  should  have  sor 
rowed  more  than  all  the  colony,  for  I  have  longed  to 
see  thee  spared  the  pangs  and  pains  that  love  brings." 

"Doth  love  never  bring  happiness?" 

"The  woman  who  loveth  must  surfer  much,"  de 
clared  Gerson  Brandt. 

"But  women  are  glad  to  suffer  for  love." 

In  Walda's  eyes  shone  the  light  of  a  new-born  cour 
age,  and  Gerson  Brandt,  catching  some  of  the  spirit 
that  had  taken  possession  of  her,  answered: 

"Walda,  it  passeth  understanding  that  thou 
shouldst  speak  thus  of  love  now,  when  thou  hast 
gone  forever  beyond  the  reach  of  temptation.  Thy 
mood  doth  confound  me." 

He  went  near  to  her,  and,  standing  before  her, 
studied  her  face. 

"In  thine  eyes  I  behold  a  mystery,"  he  said,  pres 
ently,  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  "Thou  hast  lost 
the  essence  of  childhood  that  lingered  with  thee  until 
— was  it  yesterday  or  to-day  that  thou  didst  lose  it?" 

"The  world  hath  been  different  to  me  since  the  sun 
234 


W  A  L  D  A 

set  yesterday."  Walda  spoke  the  words  softly,  and 
Gerson  Brandt  beheld  in  her  face  a  radiance  which 
made  him  ashamed  of  the  vague  suspicions  that  had 
sent  a  chill  to  his  heart. 

"Verily,  the  spirit  of  prophecy  hath  descended  upon 
thee.  Thou  hast  come  into  the  full  possession  of  the 
divine  gift."  He  drew  away  from  her,  and  looked  at 
her  in  awe. 

"Nay,  nay,"  Walda  faltered;  "thou  art  deceived." 

Her  gaze  wandered  past  him  as  she  spoke,  and  she 
saw,  ascending  the  hill,  six  of  the  village  mothers. 
Gerson  Brandt,  following  her  glance,  said:  "This  is 
the  day  when  thy  vigil  beginneth.  The  watchers  are 
coming  for  thee." 

Walda's  face  paled. 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  the  time  had  come,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  am  not  ready  for  it.  I  am  unworthy." 

"It  is  the  hour  of  our  last  talk  together,"  Gerson 
Brandt  announced,  in  a  solemn  tone.  "Thy  misgiv 
ings  are  only  human."  He  raised  his  hands  above 
her  bowed  head  and  gave  her  his  blessing.  He  could 
not  trust  himself  to  look  at  her  again.  Passing  by 
her  he  entered  the  school-house,  closing  the  door  tight 
ly  behind  him,  lest  he  might  be  tempted  to  look  back. 

Walda  submissively  followed  the  women,  who  led 
the  way  to  the  little  room  that  opened  out  of  the  bare 
auditorium  of  the  meeting-house.  It  was  here  that 
she  had  spent  many  hours  of  study  among  the  elders' 

235 


W  A  L  D  A 

books,  but  its  appearance  was  slightly  changed.  In 
one  corner  stood  a  cot  covered  with  white  blankets  of 
the  finest  weave  that  came  from  the  looms  of  Zanah. 
In  the  centre  was  a  reading-desk,  upon  which  a  large 
Bible  lay  open.  Six  chairs  were  ranged  along  the 
wall  just  outside  the  door  that  led  into  the  interior  of 
the  meeting-house. 

"Thou  wilt  find  nothing  to  distract  thy  thoughts 
here,"  said  Mother  Kaufmann,  glancing  into  the 
room. 

"We  will  take  good  care  that  thou  art  not  dis 
turbed,"  asserted  Mother  Schneider. 

Walda  gave  no  sign  that  she  heard.  Crossing  the 
threshold  she  closed  the  door,  shutting  out  the  six 
women.  She  threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  gave 
way  to  a  paroxysm  of  weeping.  The  realization  that 
she  had  missed  her  opportunity  to  confess  her  love  for 
Everett  at  first  frightened  her,  for  she  knew  it  was  now 
too  late  to  speak  before  going  to  the  Untersuchung. 
Zanah  guarded  a  prophetess  so  carefully  that  when 
once  the  door  of  the  sanctuary  in  which  Marta  Bach- 
mann  had  fasted  and  prayed  closed  upon  one  sup 
posed  to  be  inspired,  no  word  could  be  spoken.  She 
lay  awake  far  into  the  night.  When  the  day  had 
faded,  a  single  candle  had  been  put  upon  her  reading- 
desk  by  Mother  Kaufmann,  who  scanned  her  face 
with  the  inquisitive  look  of  a  mischief-maker.  Wal 
da,  sitting  with  folded  hands,  had  appeared  oblivious 

236 


W  A  L  D  A 

of  the  woman's  presence.  She  had  heard  the  evening 
prayers  of  the  colony  gathered  in  the  meeting-house. 
She  felt  a  dull  pain  when  she  recalled  her  father's  face. 
Underneath  every  emotion  that  she  experienced  in 
the  dreary  watches  of  the  night  she  was  always  con 
scious  of  the  memory  of  Everett's  voice  as  he  pleaded 
for  her  love.  At  first  she  had  a  faint  hope  that  he 
might  speak  to  her  through  the  window,  or  that,  in 
some  way,  he  would  send  her  a  token  of  encourage 
ment,  but  nothing  disturbed  the  oppressive  quiet  of 
the  laggard  hours. 

Walda  was  wakened  early  in  the  morning,  after  a 
brief  and  troubled  sleep,  by  the  whispers  of  the  wom 
en  outside  her  door.  She  knew  that  the  watch  was 
being  changed,  and  that  soon  she  would  be  expected 
to  be  kneeling  at  her  prayers.  Rising  from  the  cot 
she  looked  out  of  the  one  window — it  overlooked  the 
school -house  garden,  and  she  saw  Gerson  Brandt 
walking  back  and  forth  amid  the  tangled  nasturtiums 
and  late  asters.  As  he  moved  to  and  fro  he  never 
once  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  meeting  -  house. 
With  difficulty  Walda  repressed  an  impulse  to  call  him 
to  her.  Through  all  her  childhood  and  girlhood  he 
had  bent  a  ready  ear  when  she  told  him  her  troubles, 
and  now  it  seemed  an  easy  matter  to  confide  in 
him.  While  she  was  still  at  the  window,  Gerson 
Brandt  went  up  the  worn  steps  that  led  to  the  school 
room. 

237 


W  A  L  D  A 

A  long,  dull  day  followed  for  Walda.  Her  pride 
enabled  her  to  preserve  an  outward  calm  when,  on 
various  pretexts,  the  women  opened  the  door  to  look 
in  upon  her.  She  tried  to  think  what  she  ought  to  do. 
So  great  is  the  power  of  love  that  it  did  not  occur  to 
her  she  might  try  to  put  out  of  her  heart  the  sacred 
emotion  she  had  mistaken  for  religious  inspiration. 
She  accepted  it  as  the  divine  gift  for  which  she  had 
been  waiting.  Although  she  knew  that  it  was  likely 
her  father  would  forbid  her  marriage  to  Everett, 
she  told  herself  no  one  in  Zanah  could  take  away 
from  her  the  glory  of  an  earthly  love.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  day  she  fell  again  into  the  old  habit  of 
praying  much.  Kneeling  at  the  reading-desk,  with 
her  head  upon  the  big  Bible,  she  asked  that  she  might 
be  given  strength  to  do  her  duty  to  her  father,  and  to 
submit  to  the  will  of  Zanah. 

For  the  second  time  the  evening  hymns  were  chant 
ed  outside  the  door.  Walda  listened  quite  calmly, 
and,  long  after  she  knew  the  meeting-house  was  emp 
tied  of  all  except  the  six  watchers,  she  sat  in  the  fad 
ing  light  of  the  evening  looking  out  into  the  school 
yard,  and  thinking  serenely  of  the  life  she  was  putting 
behind  her.  Presently  her  thoughts  were  disturbed 
by  a  man's  voice.  With  a  heart-flutter  she  recognized 
Everett's  low,  clear  tones.  She  heard  him  command 
one  of  the  women  to  open  the  door.  Rising  to  her 
feet,  she  listened  breathlessly  to  the  protracted  parley 

238 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  followed.  Without  warning,  a  light  knock  sound 
ed  on  the  door. 

"Let  me  in,  Walda,"  said  Everett. 

Before  she  could  go  to  the  door,  he  had  lifted  the 
latch  and  had  entered,  followed  by  the  six  women,  all 
of  whom  spoke  words  of  angry  protest. 

"So  this  is  where  they  have  hidden  you,  Walda?" 
he  said,  paying  no  attention  to  the  colony  mothers. 
"  I  have  searched  for  you  all  day,  for  I  have  much  that 
I  wish  to  say  to  you." 

His  manner  was  quiet  and  determined.  "  I  wish  to 
be  left  alone  with  Walda  Kellar,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  watchers.  "I  have  a  message  of  much  import 
ance  to  give  to  her." 

"How  darest  thou  break  in  upon  the  vigil  of  a 
prophetess  of  Zanah!"  shrieked  Mother  Kaufmann. 
"  Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  instrument  of  the  Lord 
is  not  permitted  to  speak  until  the  last  hour  of  her 
probation  hath  expired?" 

"  Ja,  ja,  Mother  Kaufmann  is  right.  We  will  send 
for  the  elders  if  thou  dost  not  leave  here  this  minute," 
chorused  the  women. 

Everett  coolly  surveyed  the  group.  Putting  out 
his  hand  he  grasped  Walda's  arm,  and  quickly  drew 
her  into  the  meeting-house  assembly-room.  With  a 
quick  motion  he  slammed  the  door  and  turned  the 
key,  imprisoning  the  six  women,  who  immediately 
began  to  call  for  help.  Reopening  the  door  for  a  little 

239 


W  A  L  D  A 

space  he  ordered  them  to  keep  silence,  accompanying 
his  admonition  with  the  remark  that  if  they  sum 
moned  a  crowd  they  would  prove  they  were  not  fit  to 
watch  the  prophetess.  For  the  second  time  he  turned 
the  big  key.  Walda  had  watched  the  proceeding 
with  astonishment.  Her  face  was  white  and  scared 
when  he  put  his  arms  around  her  and  drew  her  to 
him. 

"There,  do  not  be  frightened,"  he  said,  soothingly, 
as  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  "I  have  come  to 
take  you  away." 

"Ah,  Stephen;  now,  indeed,  do  I  know  that  I  was 
never  fitted  to  be  a  prophetess,"  said  Walda,  looking 
up  into  his  face.  "My  heart  hath  thirsted  for  thee. 
With  thine  arms  around  me  I  feel  as  if  I  had  found  a 
safe  refuge  from  all  my  troubles.  When  thou  didst 
kiss  me  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  I  had  been  untrue 
to  the  people  who  trusted  me." 

"  I  mean  never  to  let  you  go  away  from  me  again," 
he  said.  "But  come;  we  are  wasting  time.  Let  us 
go  now  to  your  father  and  tell  him  that  you  are  to 
belong  to  me,  and  not  to  Zanah." 

Walda  drew  away  from  him.  "Nay,  Stephen," 
she  said.  "In  the  nights  and  day  that  I  have  been 
alone  there  in  that  room,  it  hath  been  made  plain  to 
me  that  I  must  tell  all  the  people  how  I  have  betrayed 
their  faith  in  me." 

"You  owe  the  people  nothing,"  said  Everett,  with 
240 


W  A  L  D  A 

a  trace  of  impatience  in  his  voice.  "  Come ;  there  is  no 
time  to  be  lost.  I  mean  to  take  you  away  from  Zanah 
this  very  night.  Your  father  and  Gerson  Brandt  can 
explain  to  the  colony  why  you  are  not  to  be  their 
prophetess." 

Walda  shook  her  head.  "Wouldst  thou  have  me 
show  a  craven  spirit?"  she  inquired.  "Dost  thou 
think  I  could  go  away  to  be  happy  with  thee  and  for 
get  my  father,  even  if  I  could  be  unmindful  of  what  I 
owe  the  men  and  women  of  Zanah?" 

"Do  you  not  think  you  owe  me  any  duty?"  Stephen 
asked.  "Do  not  let  us  stand  here  discussing  what  is 
right  and  wrong.  It  is  right  that  you  should  be  my 
wife.  You  have  been  the  victim  of  the  bigotry  and 
superstition  of  a  clannish,  religious  sect.  Love  has 
made  you  free.  Doesn't  your  heart  tell  you  to  an 
swer  the  call  from  my  heart?"  He  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  her,  but  she  stepped  beyond  his  reach. 

"Stephen,  I  have  prayed  constantly  that  wisdom 
might  be  given  me,  and  my  way  hath  been  made  plain 
before  me,"  she  answered,  firmly.  "  I  must  go  before 
the  Untersiichung,  and,  for  my  father's  sake,  I  must 
accept  whatever  penalty  is  meted  out  to  me." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  submit  to  any  de 
cree  of  the  colony  of  Zanah?  That  signifies  that  you 
do  not  love  me,  after  all.  It  means  that  you  are  lost 
to  me  forever." 

The  strong  man's  voice  trembled  as  he  spoke.     A 

16  241 


W  A  L  D  A 

wave  of  passion  and  longing  swept  over  him.  He 
drew  her  to  him  and  held  her  close,  pillowing  her  head 
upon  his  breast,  and  whispering  to  her  that  she  was 
his;  it  was  not  in  her  power  to  make  the  choice  since 
love  gave  him  the  right  to  her. 

"Thou  dost  affright  me.  There  is  something  in  thy 
love  that  terrifies  me,"  she  said,  trying  to  make  him 
free  her. 

"I  shall  not  let  you  go  until  you  have  promised 
that  you  will  marry  me,"  he  said. 

"I  cannot  promise  that,  Stephen,"  she  said,  so 
faintly  that  he  scarcely  heard  her.  "Thou  knowest 
I  cannot  leave  my  father,  and  surely  thou  wouldst 
not  be  content  to  stay  here  in  Zanah." 

"I  could  live  here  or  anywhere  else  with  you. 
Promise." 

"Nay,  nay,  I  cannot,"  she  repeated. 

"Will  you  pledge  yourself  to  marry  me  when  your 
conscience  tells  you  that  you  are  free?" 

"  It  is  in  my  heart  to  promise  that  to  thee,  Stephen, 
but  during  my  vigil  I  have  come  to  know  that  if  thou 
shouldst  live  away  from  me  out  in  the  world  thou 
mightst  no  longer  love  me.  Nay,  I  will  not  bind  thee. 
The  only  pledge  I  give  thee  is  the  pledge  that  I  will 
love  thee  all  my  life." 

A  furious  knocking  on  the  door  made  them  remem 
ber  the  imprisoned  watchers. 

"  If  you  refuse  to  go  with  me  now  what  do  you  wish 
242 


W  A  L  D  A 

to  do?"  Stephen  asked,  coming  back  to  the  subject  of 
his  original  errand. 

"  I  want  to  wait  until  the  Untersuchung,  and  I  want 
thee  to  be  patient  until  thou  hearest  what  the  elders 
say.  I  shall  pray  that  I  may  be  given  to  thee." 

"There  is  no  danger  of  your  repenting  of  love,  is 
there,  Walda?" 

She  smiled  confidently  and  answered:  "Thy  love 
will  dwell  in  my  heart  forever." 

He  kissed  her  farewell,  holding  both  her  hands  in 
his. 

"I  wish  I  could  spare  you  the  ordeal  of  the  Unter 
suchung,"  he  exclaimed.  "Why  need  we  care  for  all 
the  world?" 

"Hush!"  she  said.  "We  care  not  for  Zanah  or  the 
whole  world,  but  if  we  would  keep  our  love  holy,  we 
must  be  true,  Stephen,  to  all  our  duties." 

After  he  had  kissed  her  for  the  last  time,  she  stood 
before  the  elders'  platform  and  looked  up  at  the  chair 
of  the  prophetess.  Everett  unlocked  the  door. 

"I  appreciate  the  opportunity  you  have  given  me 
of  speaking  to  Walda  Kellar,"  he  said,  with  a  suavity 
and  courtesy  to  which  the  women  of  the  colony  were 
so  unaccustomed  they  did  not  know  what  it  meant. 
They  stood  scowling  at  him  until  Mother  Kaufmann 
replied : 

"Thou  wilt  be  ordered  out  of  the  colony  for  this 
day's  work." 

243 


W  A  L  D  A 

"If  you  are  wise — and  I  am  sure  you  are,  or  you 
would  not  have  been  chosen  to  attend  the  prophetess 
of  Zanah — you  will  not  make  any  complaints."  He 
bowed  deferentially  to  all  of  them,  and  passing  Walda, 
before  whom  he  stopped  to  whisper  "Farewell,  until 
the  Untersuchung,"  he  went  out  of  the  meeting-house. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  message  of  much  import  that 
brought  the  stranger  here,"  sneered  Mother  Kauf- 
mann,  as  she  seated  herself  on  the  nearest  chair. 

"  He  hath  small  respect  for  the  laws  of  Zanah,"  de 
clared  a  second  watcher. 

Without  uttering  a  word,  Walda  returned  to  her 
place  of  temporary  imprisonment.  Kneeling  before 
her  reading-desk,  she  prayed  that  she  might  be  given 
strength  and  courage  to  accept  whatever  penalty  the 
elders  might  allot  to  her. 


XVIII 

THE  day  of  the  Untersuchung  came  at  last.  A 
brilliant  sun  shone  upon  Zanah.  An  early  frost 
had  turned  the  maples  yellow  and  had  touched  the 
oaks  with  crimson.  In  the  vineyards  the  last  pur 
ple  grapes  hung  in  the  shrivelled  foliage.  Along  the 
winding  road  the  golden-rod  was  blossoming  in  the 
tall,  feathery  grasses.  A  hush  fell  upon  the  quiet 
valley  in  the  morning.  The  brown  fields  on  lowland 
and  hill-side  were  deserted.  At  the  edge  of  the  village 
the  mill-wheels  had  ceased  their  busy  whir. 

Everett  had  walked  out  under  the  autumn  sky 
nearly  all  night.  In  the  days  that  had  passed  since 
his  interview  with  Walda  at  the  meeting-house  all  the 
villagers  had  avoided  him.  Even  the  school-master 
had  passed  him  by  with  scarcely  a  nod  of  recognition. 
Time  had  dragged.  Of  all  the  people  of  Zanah,  Hans 
Peter  alone  remained  on  friendly  terms  with  him. 

At  dawn  Everett  arose  from  a  brief  sleep,  and  dress 
ed  himself  with  unusual  care.  The  thought  came  to 
him  that  before  sundown  he  might  be  robbed  of  Wal 
da.  All  his  strength  left  him.  He  dropped  upon  a 
chair  near  the  window.  Love  had  become  life  to  him. 

245 


W  A  L  D  A 

Sitting  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  he  looked  out 
upon  Zanah.  Walda  represented  hope,  worship,  as 
piration.  The  touch  of  her  lips  had  awakened  all 
that  was  good  in  him.  He,  who  had  rarely  prayed, 
petitioned,  in  an  agony  of  longing,  that  he  might  be 
given  the  woman  of  Zanah. 

Some  one  knocked.  Everett  jumped  to  his  feet  to 
open  the  door.  Hans  Peter,  freshly  scoured  with  soap 
until  his  round  face  shone,  stood  in  the  hall,  twirling  a 
cap  that  had  been  recently  mended. 

"The  elders  have  sent  me  to  tell  thee  that  thou  art 
to  remain  away  from  the  timber-land  where  the  Un- 
tersuchung  is  to  be  held,"  announced  the  simple  one. 

"And  why  is  my  absence  desirable?"  Everett  asked. 

"  Question  not  the  village  fool,"  Hans  Peter  replied. 
"He  knoweth  not  what  the  great  men  of  Zanah  think 
inside  their  wise  heads." 

"What  do  you  think  inside  your  foolish  head?" 
Everett  laughed,  as  if  he  made  light  of  the  order. 

Hans  Peter  looked  down  at  a  pair  of  copper-toed 
shoes,  which  were  to  him  the  insignia  of  an  unusual 
occasion. 

"It  seemeth  to  the  simple  one  of  Zanah  that  it  is 
wise  for  the  stranger  to  be  far  away  when  the  proph 
etess  doth  pledge  herself  to  love  only  God  and  the 
angels." 

"I  intend  to  go  to  the  Untersuehung,  Hans  Peter, 
and  I  want  you  to  find  a  good  place  from  which  I  can 

246 


W  A  L  D  A 

look  on  during  the  hours  when  the  people  give  their 
testimonies  concerning  the  state  of  their  souls." 

"Thou  canst  not  sit  among  the  colonists,"  said 
Hans  Peter.  "The  men  and  women  of  Zanah  have 
turned  against  thee.  They  will  not  permit  thee  to 
mingle  with  them  on  the  most  solemn  day  of  all  the 
year." 

"Whether  or  not  they  permit  me,  I  shall  go  to  the 
Untersuchung,"  Everett  replied.  "Would  it  not  be 
safe  for  me  to  wait  behind  the  line  of  poplars  not 
far  off  from  the  platform  upon  which  the  elders  will 
sit?" 

"  If  thou  shouldst  go  out  there  early,  and  stay  where 
the  wild  hop- vine  might  hide  thee,  there  is  a  chance 
no  one  would  behold  thee,"  admitted  the  simple  one. 

"When  does  the  prophetess  go  before  the  elders?" 
Everett  inquired.  "I  know  nothing  of  to-day's  ar 
rangements,  because  here  at  the  inn  no  one  will  give 
me  any  information.  You  are  my  only  friend,  Hans 
Peter.  I  expect  you  to  tell  me  all  you  know." 

"Thou  forgettest  that  the  fool  hath  no  memory." 

"Where  are  your  gourds?  Is  there  not  one  that 
will  help  me  to  find  out  when  to  hide  among  the  pop 
lars?" 

Hans  Peter  twirled  his  cap. 

"Thou  wert  merciful  to  me  when  I  was  in  the 
stocks,"  he  said,  slowly.  "The  fool's  memory  hath 
still  a  knowledge  of  that  day.  The  fool  doth  know 

247 


W  A  L  D  A 

that,  last  of  all  Zanah,  Walda  Kellar  will  appear  be 
fore  the  elders." 

"That  means  I  need  not  go  to  the  Untersuchung 
until  this  afternoon?"  queried  Everett. 

"Yea,  thou  shouldst  wait  until  late  in  the  day." 
Hans  Peter  turned  as  if  to  run  away,  but  Everett 
caught  him  by  the  sleeve  of  his  gingham  shirt. 

"Have  you  been  to  the  meeting-house  to-day?" 
Everett  asked,  looking  at  the  simple  one  with  such 
entreaty  in  his  eyes  that  Hans  Peter  answered: 

"Yea,  I  have  but  just  come  from  the  place  where 
the  prophetess  of  Zanah  hath  been  keeping  her  vigil." 

"You  went  there  on  an  errand,  I  suppose?" 

"I  carried  orders  from  the  elders."  At  this  point 
Hans  Peter  closed  his  mouth  very  tightly  and  stared 
stupidly.  Everett  saw  that  further  questioning 
would  be  of  no  avail. 

As  soon  as  he  had  had  breakfast  Everett  walked 
out  to  the  timber-land  where  the  Untersuchung  was  to 
be  held.  The  elders  had  chosen  a  strip  of  woods  near 
the  lake  as  a  place  for  the  ceremonies  of  the  inquisi 
tion.  The  road  leading  to  it  was  that  over  which  Ev 
erett  had  walked  with  Walda  the  first  day  she  visited 
the  cemetery  to  pray  at  the  grave  of  Marta  Bach- 
mann.  About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  shore  of 
the  lake  a  large  clearing  had  been  made.  A  rude 
platform  for  the  elders  had  been  built  between  the 
lake  shore  and  rough  benches,  which  had  been  ar^ 

248 


W  A  L  D  A 

ranged  in  orderly  rows  beneath  the  intertwining 
trees.  Everett  saw  that  the  line  of  poplars  was  be 
yond  the  place  where  the  path  led  into  the  out-door 
chapel.  Hidden  there  he  could  easily  escape  detec 
tion,  and  he  would  be  near  enough  to  hear  most  of 
what  was  said  from  the  platform.  He  walked  to  the 
farther  shore  of  the  little  lake,  and  lay  down  upon  the 
ground  to  wait  as  patiently  as  he  could  for  the  laggard 
hours  to  pass.  The  quiet  beauty  of  the  day  appealed 
to  him,  and,  thinking  of  Walda,  he  was  finally  lulled 
to  sleep.  It  was  mid-day  when  he  awoke.  He  saun 
tered  back  to  the  scene  of  the  Untersuchung.  He  made 
a  seat  for  himself  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  poplars 
where  the  vines  were  thick.  Through  the  screen  of 
leaves  he  saw  the  people  slowly  gathering.  The  wom 
en  occupied  the  benches  nearest  him. 

By  two  o'clock  all  the  colonists  had  assembled.  The 
thirteen  elders  formed  a  solemn  row,  Adolph  Schnei 
der  holding  the  middle  place,  with  Wilhelm  Kellar  at 
one  end  of  the  platform  and  Gerson  Brandt  at  the 
other.  After  a  droning  hymn  and  a  tedious  prayer, 
those  who  were  candidates  for  preferment  in  the  col 
ony  went  before  the  elders.  The  men  first  were  cat 
echised  by  Adolph  Schneider,  who  did  not  rise  from 
his  chair.  Everett  was  astonished  to  see  how  few 
signified  ambition  for  colony  honors.  When  the 
women's  turn  came  the  applicants  greatly  outnum 
bered  the  men.  In  both  cases  those  who  pleaded  for 

249 


W  A  L  D  A 

advancement  boasted  of  spiritual  conflicts  and  vic 
tories.  Their  sing-song  voices  maddened  the  impa 
tient  lover.  At  last,  when  he  had  begun  to  fear  that 
Walda  would  not  be  summoned  until  the  next  day, 
Everett  noticed  that  the  people,  who  had  sat  stolid 
and  unmoved  through  the  hours  of  dreary  recitative, 
stirred  with  something  like  interest.  Everett  pulled 
himself  to  his  feet,  and,  looking  down  the  road,  saw 
a  sight  that  made  his  heart  beat. 

Two  by  two,  a  long  line  of  girls  approached  slowly. 
All  wore  the  blue  gowns  of  the  colony,  but  white  caps 
and  white  kerchiefs  were  substituted  for  those  of  ev- 
ery-day  use.  Each  carried  in  her  hand  a  large  hymn- 
book.  When  the  procession  turned  into  the  path  of 
the  woodland  chapel  Everett  caught  sight  of  Walda, 
walking  last  of  all.  As  they  marched  slowly  onward, 
the  girls  chanted  a  hymn.  Walda  carried  her  head 
in  the  old,  proud  way,  and  her  manner  reassured  the 
watcher  who  loved  her.  She  was  clothed  in  a  trailing 
gown,  fashioned  of  the  white  flannel  from  the  colony 
mills.  The  clinging  folds  brought  out  the  noble  lines 
of  her  figure.  The  kerchief  crossed  upon  her  bosom 
was  of  some  thin  material  of  the  same  tint  as  the  flan 
nel.  The  cap,  pushed  back  from  her  brow,  revealed 
the  waves  of  her  fair  hair,  which  was  confined  in  two 
long  braids.  Her  face  was  pale;  her  lips  were  firmly 
set;  her  eyes  shone  with  the  light  of  peace  and  cour 
age.  The  little  procession  passed  quite  near  Everett, 

250 


W  A  L  D  A 

but,  although  his  heart  called  to  her,  and  his  eyes  fol 
lowed  her,  she  appeared  unconscious  of  his  presence. 
He  noticed  that  her  hands  hung  at  her  sides,  and  he 
read  a  meaning  in  the  fact  that  she  no  longer  crossed 
them  upon  her  breast  in  the  old  fashion,  signifying  that 
she  would  keep  out  the  world  and  all  its  emotions. 

When  the  procession  appeared  before  the  colonists 
all  the  people  knelt  in  their  places,  none  daring  to  lift 
curious  eyes  to  her  whom  they  hailed  as  the  instru 
ment  of  the  Lord.  The  procession  moved  back  of  the 
assembly,  crossing  to  the  farther  side  of  the  clearing, 
and  then  advancing  to  the  front  of  the  platform. 
Here  Walda  took  the  central  position,  the  girls  sep 
arating  to  stand  on  either  side  of  her.  The  chanting 
ceased,  and  Walda  bowed  her  head  in  prayer. 

All  the  elders  rose  to  receive  the  prophetess  of  Za- 
nah.  Wilhelm  Kellar,  still  weak  from  his  illness,  lean 
ed  upon  his  cane  and  murmured  a  thanksgiving  to  the 
Lord.  Gerson  Brandt,  at  the  other  end  of  the  plat 
form,  looked  at  Walda,  and  then  turned  his  eyes  away, 
as  if  the  day  and  hour  held  something  that  brought  a 
severe  test  to  the  spirit  long  disciplined  to  self-control. 

"Stand  not  before  me,  O  ye  elders,"  Walda  said, 
in  a  clear,  steady  voice,  lifting  up  one  hand  to  claim 
attention.  "Bow  not,  O  ye  people  of  Zanah,  for  I 
am  unworthy  to  be  your  prophetess." 

"Speak  not  such  words  of  humility,"  said  Adolph 
Schneider.  "We  know  that  the  inspiration  hath 

251 


W  A  L  D  A 

come  to  thee.  Thou  hast  already  shown  to  us  that 
thou  hast  received  the  gift  of  tongues.  To-day  thou 
shalt  be  anointed  prophetess  of  Zanah." 

"Amen!"  shouted  one  of  the  elders,  and  the  word 
was  repeated  in  a  chorus  by  the  men. 

Walda's  face  became  as  white  as  marble.  She  stood 
immovable,  with  one  hand  pressed  against  her  breast 
as  if  she  would  stop  the  beating  of  her  heart.  She 
would  have  spoken,  but  the  Herr  Doktor  turned  to 
command  that  the  chair  of  the  prophetess  be  lifted 
to  the  centre  of  the  platform.  The  elders  moved  to 
give  it  space,  and,  when  it  had  been  put  in  position, 
Adolph  Schneider  said: 

"Come  hither  to  thy  rightful  place  among  the  el 
ders." 

"My  place  is  among  the  lowliest  of  the  colonists," 
said  Walda.  "  Let  me  stand  here  while  I  speak  to  the 
people  of  Zanah." 

The  elders  shook  their  heads,  and  the  people  mur 
mured  that  they  could  not  hear.  Walda  walked  to 
the  end  of  the  platform  where  the  steps  ascended.  She 
moved  slowly,  pausing  for  a  moment  as  she  passed 
Gerson  Brandt.  She  crossed  the  platform  with  head 
bowed,  but  when  she  faced  the  multitude  there  shone 
in  her  eyes  a  strange  radiance  that  filled  the  colonists 
with  awe. 

"To  all  you  of  Zanah  I  have  a  last  message,"  she 
said,  turning  first  to  the  elders  and  then  to  the  people. 

252 


W  A  L  D  A 

"  From  the  years  of  my  childhood  ye  have  led  me  in 
the  ways  of  the  Lord.  Ye  have  looked  upon  me  as 
the  instrument  chosen  to  reveal  the  divine  will  of 
Zanah.  I  have  prayed  through  the  months  and 
years  for  the  day  of  inspiration.  It  was  not  until 
this  summer  that  mine  eyes  were  opened  to  the  glory 
of  God.  In  my  heart  suddenly  gushed  a  well-spring 
of  happiness.  I  read  meanings  in  the  stars,  and  the 
smallest  things  of  earth  spake  to  me.  It  was  as  if  I 
walked  very  near  to  God." 

Walda,  pausing,  swept  the  assembly  with  her  eyes. 
In  the  exaltation  of  her  mood  she  had  become  clothed 
in  a  majesty  that  overawed  the  people.  Some  of  the 
women  fell  to  their  knees,  weeping. 

"Behold  the  prophetess!  Behold  the  prophetess! 
Blessed  be  her  name!"  shouted  one  of  the  elders. 

Walda  continued,  unheeding: 

"  In  my  heart  I  felt  a  gratitude,  for  I  believed  that 
at  last  the  divine  revelation  had  come  to  me.  I 
thought  that  the  love  in  my  heart,  which  made  all 
that  pertaineth  to  life  sacred,  belonged  to  heaven 
alone.  I  thanked  God  that  the  baptism  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  had  been  given  me." 

Cries  of  joy  ascended  from  the  throng. 

"  In  the  first  days  of  the  inspiration  that  had  come 
to  me  I  was  impatient  for  this  time,  when  I  could  dedi 
cate  my  whole  life  to  the  service  of  Zanah.  It  seemed 
easy  to  live  always  near  to  God.  Voices  spake  to  me. 

253 


W  A  L  D  A 

I  believed  that  I  was,  indeed,  the  prophetess  of  Zanah 
— the  prophetess  who  could  live  untouched  by  human 
emotions.  But  one  day  there  was  given  to  me  a 
clearer  vision.  Just  before  the  beginning  of  my  vigil 
it  was  shown  to  me  that  mine  was  not  the  rapture  of 
the  saints" — Walda  paused  and  caught  her  breath — 
"  I  came  into  the  knowledge  that  my  inspiration  had 
its  origin  in  human  love." 

She  pronounced  the  last  words  distinctly,  with  her 
eyes  uplifted.  Gerson  Brandt  uttered  her  name  in  an 
agonized  groan.  Wilhelm  Kellar  strove  to  speak,  but 
his  voice  died  in  his  throat. 

"What  sayest  thou,  Walda  Kellar?"  demanded 
Adolph  Schneider,  rising  from  his  chair.  The  colo 
nists  listened  stolidly,  as  if  they  did  not  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  Walda's  speech. 

"Nay,  surely  thou  hast  not  been  touched  by  an 
earthly  love?"  said  Gerson  Brandt,  in  a  tone  which 
told  that  despair  was  clutching  at  his  heart.  "Thy 
words  are  vague." 

Walda  saw  the  horror  in  her  father's  face.  She 
looked  away  from  him  and  the  school-master,  waiting 
a  moment  that  she  might  choose  her  words  so  that 
they  would  not  give  unnecessary  pain. 

"We  believe  thou  hast  not  looked  with  favor  on  any 
man,"  Adolph  Schneider  said,  encouragingly,  and  then 
he  added,  as  if  to  convey  a  covert  warning  to  the  peo 
ple  of  Zanah:  "Yet  thou  art  a  woman,  and  all  that 

254 


W  A  L  D  A 

are  made  in  the  image  of  Eve  are  easy  to  be  persuaded 
by  the  voice  of  Satan,  speaking  through  man." 

"A  love  that  is  of  heaven,  and  yet  of  earth,  hath 
taken  possession  of  my  heart,"  declared  Walda,  fix 
ing  her  eyes  upon  the  people.  "  It  came  to  me  like  a 
great  light  shining  through  the  gates  of  heaven.  I 
did  not  know  the  glory  that  enfolded  me  was  what  ye 
of  Zanah  call  an  earthly  love,  for,  truly,  even  now  it 
seemeth  to  have  in  it  more  of  heaven  than  of  that 
which  pertaineth  to  earth.  I  did  not  fight  against 
this  love  which  hath  been  revealed  to  me,  for  I  did  not 
know  it  was  human  love  which  made  me  feel  a  kinship 
with  God.  Here,  in  Zanah,  ye  have  taught  me  that 
the  love  of  men  and  women  is  a  sinful  thing,  and  there 
came  to  me  no  prick  of  the  conscience — no  warning 
that  I  was  transgressing  the  law  of  God." 

She  was  transfigured  with  the  mystery  and  beauty 
of  her  new  heritage  of  love,  and  the  people  listened 
in  awe.  When  she  had  stopped  speaking,  she  turned 
to  her  father  with  a  look  of  such  pleading  and  en 
treaty  that  the  old  man,  who  had  heard  as  one  that 
dreams,  moved  his  lips  in  an  effort  to  speak.  Pres 
ently  there  arose  a  murmur  from  the  people.  The 
Herr  Doktor  commanded  that  all  should  hold  their 
peace. 

"What  man  in  Zanah  hath  stolen  thy  thoughts 
from  God?"  the  Herr  Doktor  asked,  in  a  stern  voice. 

"I  love  Stephen  Everett,  the  stranger  who  belong- 
255 


W  A  L  D  A 

eth  not  to  Zanah,"  Walda  answered,  in  unfaltering 
tones. 

A  wail  arose  from  the  people.  It  grew  into  a  mighty 
sound  that  was  like  the  autumn  winds  rushing  through 
the  tall  trees  on  the  slopes  of  the  bluffs. 

"The  tempter  hath  come  to  Walda  Kellar  even  as 
he  came  to  Marta  Bachmann,  but  repentance  is  possi 
ble  for  her  who  hath  been  chosen  to  be  the  instrument 
of  the  Lord,"  declared  Adolph  Schneider.  "  Daughter 
of  Zanah,  pluck  this  love  from  thine  heart." 

"I  have  proclaimed  to  you  that  this  love  seemeth 
a  holy  thing  sent  from  heaven.  It  is  fixed  in  my 
heart  forever." 

Walda  was  again  the  prophetess.  She  spoke  slowly, 
and  it  was  as  if  she  were  but  repeating  the  promptings 
of  some  inner  voice. 

"Walda,  I  command  thee,  let  the  fountains  of  thy 
tears  wash  away  this  earthly  love!"  Wilhelm  Kellar 
cried,  rising  from  his  chair  and  lifting  his  arms  as  if  he 
were  beseeching  the  intervention  of  Heaven. 

"Nay,  I  cannot  repent.  There  is  that  which  tells 
me  this  is  the  love  that  is  stronger  than  death," 
Walda  said,  softly.  "  Father,  I  crave  thy  forgiveness, 
and  the  forgiveness  of  all  that  belong  to  Zanah." 

She  went  to  him  and  knelt  humbly  before  him. 
Gerson  Brandt  stood  with  arms  folded  across  his 
breast  and  head  bowed  over  them.  Karl  Weisel 
gathered  some  of  the  other  elders  close  to  him  and 

256 


W  A  L  D  A 

talked  to  them  in  whispers.  The  people  looked  on 
breathlessly.  Suddenly,  from  her  place  among  the 
women,  arose  Mother  Kaufmann. 

"  Behold  the  unfaithful  one  asking  for  forgiveness," 
she  cried,  in  rage.  "Through  her  vanity  and  her  weak 
ness  the  divine  messages  that  were  to  direct  Zanah 
how  to  prosper  are  withheld  from  the  colony.  Our 
crops  may  fail  and  we  may  starve,  but  she  careth  for 
naught  if  she  may  love  a  man.  She  hath  chosen  a 
stranger  sent  by  Satan  from  the  outside  world  to 
confound  us." 

Cries  of  derision  and  reproach  were  heard  among 
the  women.  At  first  they  were  but  low  mutterings. 
Then  an  old  hag  jumped  upon  a  bench  and  shouted: 

"Send  her  back  to  the  room  where  the  watchers 
can  guard  her.  Cast  the  stranger  out  of  Zanah." 

"Yea,  yea,  cast  out  Satan's  messenger,"  shouted 
the  women.  The  men  took  up  the  cry,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  the  orderly  crowd  of  religionists  became  a  mob 
of  fanatics  which  pressed  towards  the  platform. 

"Repent,  lepent!"  shouted  the  people.  "  Remem 
ber  thy  duty!"  "Put  aside  thy  sinful  love!"  "Ask 
the  Lord  to  forgive  thee  for  thy  transgression!" 

Walda  faced  the  angry  mob  fearlessly.  Her  per 
sonality  still  impressed  the  people,  so  that  none  dare 
lay  hands  upon  her. 

"  Let  the  curse  of  Heaven  descend  upon  the  head  of 
the  stranger  in  Zanah!"  Mother  Kaufmann  shrieked. 
17  257 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Curse  him!  Curse  him!"  called  out  the  men,  re 
peating  the  woman's  imprecation. 

In  an  instant  Walda  compelled  silence.  She  raised 
her  arms  in  a  warning  gesture,  and  shamed  the  peo 
ple  by  the  contempt  she  showed  for  their  weakness 
as  she  looked  down  upon  them. 

"  How  are  ye  fitted  to  judge  the  stranger  in  Zanah?" 
she  asked,  in  a  scornful  tone.  "Have  ye  the  Chris 
tian  charity  the  Bible  enjoins  you  to  cherish  in  your 
hearts?  If  there  is  any  one  to  be  blamed  for  the  loss 
of  your  prophetess  it  is  I,  Walda  Kellar,  that  should 
bear  it  all.  But  again  I  tell  you  there  is  naught  con 
cerning  love  of  which  I  would  repent." 

"She  would  defy  Heaven!"  shouted  Mother  Kauf- 
mann.  "  Let  the  elders  take  her  away  that  the  sight 
of  her  shall  not  breed  sinful  thoughts  of  love  in  the 
hearts  of  the  maidens  of  Zanah." 

"Yea,  lock  her  up  until  she  cometh  to  her  right 
mind,"  said  the  old  hag,  waving  her  hands  to  invite 
the  elders'  attention. 

The  uproar  became  deafening.  Gerson  Brandt  step 
ped  forward  where  he  could  stand  between  Walda 
and  the  mob.  Through  all  the  commotion  Everett, 
with  difficulty,  had  restrained  himself  from  rushing 
out  to  protect  Walda  from  the  maddened  colonists, 
but  he  realized  that  his  appearance  would  but  fan  the 
flame  of  wrath  and  increase  the  confusion. 

In  the  centre  of  the  women's  division  of  the  out- 
258 


W  A  L  D  A 

door  chapel  Mother  Schneider  and  her  daughter 
Gretchen  had  been  sitting.  Both  had  taken  little 
part  in  the  demonstration  against  the  fallen  proph 
etess.  When  Gerson  Brandt  was  seen  to  move  for 
ward  on  the  platform  Mother  Schneider  said  to  the 
women  near  her: 

"It  is  a  sorry  day  when  the  women  of  Zanah  are 
permitted  to  hear  a  maiden  boast  of  a  love  that  know- 
eth  no  bounds.  It  is  an  indecent  confession  that 
Walda  Kellar  maketh.  Truly,  she  belongeth  to  the 
class  of  women  that  should  be  stoned." 

"  It  is  such  as  she  that  cast  wicked  spells  upon  men. 
Behold,  the  elders  fear  to  discipline  her,"  answered  a 
mother,  who  that  day  had  been  promoted  to  the  high 
est  grade  of  the  colony  because  she  testified  that  she 
had  found  earthly  love  an  unholy  thing. 

' '  She  should  be  stoned !  She  should  be  stoned !"  re 
peated  the  women ;  and  the  words  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth  until  they  reached  a  boy  who  loitered  on  the 
edge  of  the  crowd.  The  boy  picked  up  a  flat  stone, 
and,  aiming  it  at  Walda,  threw  it  with  all  the  force  at 
his  command.  It  sailed  above  the  heads  of  the  peo 
ple.  Gerson  Brandt,  with  a  quick  movement,  pulled 
Walda  aside.  The  stone  struck  him  on  the  forehead, 
making  a  deep  gash,  from  which  the  blood  coursed 
down  his  cheek.  Walda,  with  a  woman's  quick  in 
stinct  of  ministration,  undid  the  kerchief  around  her 
neck,  and  gave  it  to  Gerson  Brandt. 

259 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Stanch  the  blood  with  this,"  she  said,  and  when 
he  made  no  effort  to  take  it,  she  pressed  it  against  his 
cheek. 

Everett  threw  every  consideration  of  prudence  to 
the  winds  when  he  saw  the  stone  hurled  towards  Wai- 
da.  He  pushed  his  way  to  the  platform,  but  he  had 
to  fight  his  path  through  the  crowd,  which  had  been 
dazed  at  the  sight  of  the  blood  on  the  school-master's 
face.  The  men  frowned  at  him  sullenly,  and  some 
muttered  low  imprecations.  Everett  climbed  to  a 
place  near  Walda.  When  the  people  of  Zanah  saw 
him  they  shouted  in  angry  protest.  One  burly  man 
sought  to  lay  hold  of  him,  but  he  shook  off  the  colonist 
and  would  have  gone  closer  to  Walda,  but  Gerson 
Brandt  put  out  a  restraining  hand. 

"Profane  not  this  place  with  thy  presence,"  said 
the  school  -  master,  stepping  between  Everett  and 
Walda.  "Thou  art  a  traitor.  Thou  hast  betrayed 
the  trust  we  put  in  thee.  The  brother  of  Zanah 
doeth  well  to  hold  thee  back." 

All  the  pent-up  emotion  of  the  hour  suddenly  burst 
out  as  Gerson  Brandt  spoke.  His  gaunt  form  trem 
bled  with  the  strength  of  his  passion. 

"It  is  this  man  who  should  bear  all  the  curses  of 
Zanah,"  he  continued,  turning  to  address  the  people. 
"We  took  him  into  close  communion  with  us,  and  he 
hath  repaid  our  faith  in  him  by  seeking  to  ensnare  the 
love  of  our  prophetess.  He  pledged  me  his  honor, 

260 


W  A  L  D  A 

and  he  cared  naught  for  his  word  given  with  the  seal 
of  a  hand-clasp.  He  is  a  Judas  who  hath  worked  se 
cretly  for  the  undoing  of  Zanah  —  a  Judas  who  hath 
cared  for  neither  honor  nor  truth,  so  that  he  might 
win  the  woman  whom  he  coveted.  He  deserveth  not 
mercy.  Let  us  cast  him  out  of  Zanah,  and  when  he 
hath  gone  back  to  the  wicked  world  to  which  he  be- 
longeth,  the  soul  of  Walda  Kellar  can  be  cleansed  of 
the  stain  of  an  earthly  love.  Much  prayer  and  fast 
ing  will  restore  her  to  fellowship  with  God." 

Everett  moved  close  to  Walda,  and,  laying  his  hand 
upon  her  arm,  would  have  drawn  her  away  from  the 
infuriated  mob.  When  he  touched  her,  the  sight  of 
what  seemed  an  assertion  of  his  claim  enraged  Gerson 
Brandt.  The  school  -  master  was  imbued  with  the 
strength  of  a  giant.  He  thrust  Everett  away  with  a 
mighty  stroke  of  his  arm. 

"Seize  this  man!"  he  commanded.  "Bind  him, 
and  put  him  out  of  the  sight  of  the  people!" 

Four  or  five  colonists  sprang  forward  to  obey  Ger 
son  Brandt's  orders,  but  Everett  threw  them  off  as 
lightly  as  if  they  were  children. 

"You  have  no  right  to  touch  me,"  he  said,  tower 
ing  above  even  the  tallest.  "I  have  broken  no  law, 
and  I  can  hold  you  responsible  if  you  deprive  me  of 
my  liberty." 

The  elders  had  gathered  about  Gerson  Brandt  and 
Walda.  Wilhelm  Kellar  tottered  to  his  daughter's 

261 


W  A  L  D  A 

side,  and  implored  her  to  surrender  her  will  to  the 
will  of  Zanah. 

"Shame  on  you!  Shame  on  you,  men  of  Zanah!" 
cried  Mother  Kaufmann,  who  had  climbed  to  the  top 
of  a  high  tree-stump.  "Will  ye  let  one  man  make 
cowards  of  you?  Do  the  bidding  of  Gerson  Brandt." 

Some  of  the  women  hissed,  and  a  score  of  the  mill- 
hands  fought  their  way  to  the  platform.  Surround 
ing  Everett,  they  closed  in  upon  him.  One,  more 
daring  than  the  rest,  sought  to  seize  him.  Everett 
felled  the  colonist  with  a  quick  blow.  The  others  en 
deavored  to  detain  him,  but  none  was  a  match  for  the 
athlete  with  muscles  of  steel.  Knocking  down  two 
or  three  of  the  most  aggressive  of  his  assailants,  Ev 
erett  went  to  Walda,  who  trembled  with  fear  for  his 
safety.  He  drew  her  close  to  him.  The  quavering 
voice  of  Wilhelm  Kellar  sounded  in  their  ears. 

"Offend  not  the  eyes  of  Zanah  by  parading  your 
unseemly  love,"  he  said,  raising  his  cane  as  if  he  would 
strike  the  man  of  the  world.  The  effort  was  too  much 
for  his  feeble  strength.  He  almost  fell,  and  Walda 
knelt  before  him  to  support  him  with  her  outstretched 
arms.  His  indignation  changed  to  grief,  and,  looking 
down  at  the  daughter  upon  whom  he  had  built  all  his 
ambition,  he  gave  way  to  bitter  lamentation. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  how  have  I  deserved  this  punishment?" 
he  cried. 

Walda  sobbed,  still  holding  his  frail  body  close  to 
262 


WALDA 

her.      "Forgive    me,    father,"    said    she,    looking   up 
through  her  tears. 

"  Nay,  ask  not  my  forgiveness,"  he  answered,  stern 
ly.  "Seek  the  forgiveness  of  the  Lord,  whom  thou 
hast  offended.  Repent  now,  when  it  is  not  yet  too 
late." 

"There  is  no  repentance  in  my  heart,"  she  said,  ris 
ing  to  her  feet.  "This  love  must  ever  seem  to  me  a 
holy  thing." 

"Come  away  with  me  now,  for  I  would  talk  to 
thee  alone.  Let  us  flee  from  the  presence  of  this 
man  and  the  people  of  Zanah,"  pleaded  Wilhelm 
Kellar. 

"Yea,  we  will  go  away  together,"  Walda  answered. 
She  drew  his  arm  through  hers,  and  gently  led  him 
to  the  end  of  the  platform.  They  slowly  descended 
the  steps  and  walked  to  the  middle  aisle,  which  offered 
them  a  chance  of  egress.  As  they  passed  the  women, 
Mother  Kaufmann  hissed  Walda,  and  taunts  and  jeers 
from  the  crowd  assailed  her.  Wilhelm  Kellar  stopped. 
Raising  himself  on  his  cane,  he  said,  with  a  tremen 
dous  effort: 

"Wag  not  your  tongues,  ye  women  of  Zanah.  Ye 
have  no  right  to  heap  insult  upon  her  whom  an  hour 
ago  ye  were  proud  to  hail  as  the  prophetess." 

"  Lo,  this  prophetess  is  but  a  Jezebel!"  sneered 
Mother  Kaufmann;  and  the  women  near  her  repeated 
the  name  "Jezebel!  Jezebel!" 

263 


W  A  L  D  A 

Wilhelm  Kellar  heard  the  insult  to  his  daughter, 
and  once  more  raising  himself  on  his  cane,  he  called 
out: 

"Let  your  evil  tongues  be  silent!  There  is  none  in 
Zanah  who  hath  suffered  the  bitterness  of  disappoint 
ment  that  hath  come  to  me,  yet  now  do  I  forgive 
Walda  Kellar,  and  bespeak  for  her  your  mercy  and 
loving  kindness." 

His  voice  died  in  a  rattle  in  his  throat.  His  gray 
head  sank  upon  his  breast.  His  arm  loosened  its 
tense  hold  upon  Walda,  and  he  fell  in  a  heap  at  her 
feet. 

Walda  bent  over  him  with  a  cry  of  such  agony  and 
fear  that  it  pierced  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  great  as 
sembly. 

Raising  his  head,  she  looked  upon  his  face,  ghastly 
with  the  touch  of  death.  In  his  eyes  a  last  flicker  of 
light  faded  as  she  stooped  to  pillow  his  head  upon  her 
bosom. 

"Stephen,  Stephen,"  she  called,  "come  to  my 
father! ' 

Everett  gently  lifted  the  emaciated  form  of  the 
elder,  and,  waving  the  crowd  apart,  laid  his  burden 
down  upon  the  ground.  A  glance  told  him  that  a  soul 
had  gone  out  of  Zanah. 

'My  father  is  dead!  Dead!"  shrieked  Walda. 
Sinking  on  her  knees,  she  wrung  her  hands  and  gave 
way  to  her  grief. 

264 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Wilhelm  Kellar  is  dead,"  Gerson  Brandt  an 
nounced,  in  solemn  tones. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  edge  of  the  plat 
form,  where  he  could  see  the  white  face  upturned  to 
the  sky.  Then  his  eyes  fell  upon  Walda,  who  was 
weeping  with  her  head  supported  on  the  shoulder 
of  Everett.  The  school  -  master  jumped  from  the 
platform,  and,  pointing  to  Everett,  ordered  that 
he  be  bound.  With  his  own  hands  he  loosed  the 
stranger's  arms,  and  would  have  made  the  weep 
ing  girl  lean  upon  him,  but  she  proudly  drew 
away. 

"Brothers  of  Zanah,  bind  this  man,"  he  said,  re 
peating  his  command.  "Through  him,  death  and 
grievous  trouble  have  come  to  the  colony."  Everett 
waited,  ready  to  defend  himself,  but  the  men  hesi 
tated  before  making  a  second  attempt  to  carry  out 
the  elder's  orders. 

"Let  them  bind  thee,  Stephen,"  Walda  said.  "In 
the  presence  of  death  it  is  not  meet  there  should  be 
strife." 

"  I  want  my  liberty  in  order  that  I  may  defend  you 
from  these  mad  zealots,"  Everett  answered. 

"Nay,  Stephen,  thou  forgettest  that  I  am  in  the 
Lord's  hand,"  Walda  replied,  with  a  little  quiver  of 
the  lips. 

"  I  surrender  myself  as  your  prisoner,"  Everett  said, 
addressing  Gerson  Brandt.  "  It  will  not  be  necessary 

265 


W  A  L  D  A 

for  you  to  have  me  tied.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I 
will  not  try  to  escape." 

"It  hath  been  shown  to  me  that  thou  hast  no  re 
gard  for  thy  promises,"  Gerson  Brandt  said,  in  an 
angry  voice.  "When  thou  art  securely  bound  I  shall 
have  faith  in  thy  word,  and  not  till  then." 

The  insult  kindled  Everett's  anger.  He  would  have 
retorted,  but  a  sign  from  Walda  compelled  his  silence. 
He  let  the  men  tie  his  hands  behind  him.  They  used 
the  rope  clumsily,  and  drew  it  so  tightly  over  the 
flesh  that  it  was  painful.  During  the  process  Gerson 
Brandt  looked  on,  and  Walda  stood  with  eyes  upon 
the  ground.  The  colonists  waited  quietly.  The  el 
ders  on  the  platform  had  resumed  the  air  of  stolidity 
which  generally  distinguished  them.  They  watched 
the  proceedings  without  interference.  By  common 
consent  they  permitted  Gerson  Brandt  to  take  the 
initiative  in  dealing  with  the  tragic  climax  of  the 
Untersuchung. 

"Let  a  bier  be  brought  that  the  body  of  Wilhelm 
Kellar,  who  hath  fallen  into  his  last  sleep,  may  be 
carried  back  to  the  village,"  Gerson  Brandt  directed. 

Diedrich  Werther  with  three  other  colonists  carried 
a  heavy  bier,  over  which  was  thrown  a  black  pall, 
down  the  grassy  aisle  of  the  out-door  chapel.  Fol 
lowing  it  walked  Hans  Peter,  carrying  a  gourd  in 
his  hand.  The  body  of  Wilhelm  Kellar  was  lifted 
upon  the  bier  and  covered  with  the  pall.  When  the 

266 


W  A  L  D  A 

men  stooped  to  raise  the  bier,  Adolph  Schneider 
spoke : 

"Behold,  this  day  we  have  lost  one  of  the  leading 
men  of  Zanah.  Wilhelm  Kellar  hath  guided  the  busi 
ness  affairs  of  the  colony.  He  hath  been  my  strong 
arm.  Lo!  he  is  slain  by  the  frowardness  of  the  daugh 
ter  upon  whom  he  had  centred  too  much  affection. 
He  hath  suffered  because  he  let  her  become  an  idol  of 
earth.  If  she  repenteth,  so  that  she  may  become  the 
prophetess  of  Zanah,  her  crime  may  be  blotted  out  of 
the  book  of  life." 

He  paused,  but  the  people  made  no  demonstration. 

"Repent,  O  daughter  of  Zanah!"  the  Herr  Doktor 
shouted,  in  a  voice  intended  to  terrify  all  who  heard 
it.  "  Repent  now.  Pledge  thyself  to  put  earthly  love 
out  of  thy  heart,  and  to  serve  the  Lord  forever." 

"Love  that  hath  taken  root  in  the  heart  cannot  be 
plucked  out  at  will.  This  love  must  remain  always 
with  me,"  Walda  replied. 

"Let  thy  shame  be  upon  thine  own  head,"  shouted 
Adolph  Schneider.  "Thou  art  a  woman  possessed  of 
Satan.  Thou  hast  caused  thy  father's  death,  and  yet 
thou  darest  to  defy  the  laws  of  God  and  the  laws  of 
Zanah." 

"She  hath  committed  murder,"  cried  a  woman. 
"The  mark  of  Cain  is  set  upon  her  forehead." 

The  colonists  surged  around  the  place  where  Walda 
and  Gerson  Brandt  stood.  Straining  at  his  bonds, 

267 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett,  who  had  been  dragged  back  upon  the  plat 
form  and  thrown  before  the  vacant  chair  of  the 
prophetess,  shouted  to  the  elders  to  preserve  order. 
Seeing  Walda's  peril,  he  demanded  that  he  be  released, 
and  poured  forth  such  a  torrent  of  invective  and  en 
treaty  that  Adolph  Schneider  and  Karl  Weisel  were 
moved  to  action.  The  two  elders  tried  in  vain  to 
obtain  a  hearing.  The  crowd  was  clamoring  for  re 
venge.  Infuriated  by  disappointment  and  goaded 
by  superstition,  the  colonists  pressed  so  closely  upon 
Walda  that  she  was  in  danger  of  being  crushed. 

Some  of  the  women  would  have  spat  upon  her,  but 
Gerson  Brandt  pushed  them  away.  Terrible  in  his 
anger,  he  widened  the  circle  around  the  white-clad 
'  figure  of  the  fallen  prophetess,  who  seemed  unmindful 
of  the  turmoil  about  her.  She  stood  with  bowed  head, 
and  her  lips  moved  in  prayer. 

"Make  way  for  the  bier!"  Gerson  Brandt  said. 
Diedrich  Werther  and  his  three  companions  lifted  the 
bier,  and  slowly  started  down  the  grassy  aisle.  When 
Walda  would  have  followed,  one  of  the  most  turbu 
lent  of  the  colonists  roughly  shoved  her  back.  Ger 
son  Brandt  threw  out  his  arm  with  a  protecting 
gesture,  and  in  the  surging  of  the  crowd  Walda  was 
pressed  close  to  him.  His  arms  folded  about  her,  and 
for  one  moment  he  felt  her  heart  beating  upon  his.  In 
that  moment  the  fires  of  life  that  had  long  smoul 
dered  in  him  flamed  up  and  illuminated  his  soul.  In 

268 


W  A  L  D  A 

that  moment  came  to  him  the  knowledge  that  he,  the 
elder  of  Zanah,  had  long  been  possessed  of  the  earthly 
love  against  which  he  had  preached  so  many  years. 
For  a  few  seconds  the  golden  autumn  day  faded  from 
his  sight.  He  passed  into  a  new  existence.  His  di 
vinity  was  unveiled  to  him.  When  the  mist  before 
his  eyes  cleared  away  he  looked  into  Walda's  face, 
and,  still  clasping  her  close  to  his  breast,  said: 

"Canst  thou  forgive  me  for  mine  anger,  which  hath 
brought  upon  thee  much  unnecessary  trouble  this 
day?  Until  this  moment  I  have  been  blinded.  I 
have  done  thee  and  him  whom  thou  lovest  a  grievous 
wrong." 

"Thy  provocation  hath  been  great,"  Walda  an 
swered.  "Yet  there  is  resentment  in  my  heart  since 
thou  hast  caused  Stephen  Everett  to  be  bound." 

"Forgive  me,  and  I  will  make  reparation  for  mine 
offence,"  he  pleaded.  "For  the  sake  of  the  past,  for 
thy  father's  sake,  bear  no  enmity  against  me." 

"Thou  wilt  see  that  no  harm  befalleth  Stephen  Ev 
erett?"  she  said.  Unconscious  of  the  tumult  in  the 
school-master's  heart,  and  indifferent  to  his  touch, 
she  thought  only  of  the  stranger  in  Zanah.  The  mob 
moved  forward,  and  Gerson  Brandt  gently  put  Walda 
away  from  him. 

"Let  Walda  Kellar  follow  the  bier  of  her  father," 
he  commanded. 

Again  the  women  hissed  their  fallen  prophetess. 
269 


W  A  L  D  A 

Raising  her  hands  to  heaven,  Walda  uttered  the 
words : 

"Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us,  thy  people  in  Zanah. 
Forgive  us  our  transgressions." 

The  colonists'  jeers  were  silenced.  As  Walda  pass 
ed  down  the  aisle,  the  majesty  of  her  carriage  and  the 
exaltation  that  was  written  on  her  face  cast  a  fear 
upon  the  people.  One  woman  who  had  but  a  mo 
ment  before  uttered  bitter  gibes  kissed  the  hem  of  the 
white  garment  of  the  fallen  prophetess. 

Hans  Peter,  who  had  been  watching  the  proceed 
ings  from  the  limb  of  a  tree,  slid  from  his  high  seat 
and  walked  a  few  feet  behind  Walda. 

A  hush  fell  upon  the  multitude.  Standing  with 
uncovered  head,  Gerson  Brandt  waited  until  the  bier 
disappeared  among  the  trees  and  the  last  glimpse  of 
Walda's  white-robed  figure  was  obscured. 

The  distant  bell  of  the  meeting-house  tolled.  The 
sunset  hour  of  prayer  had  come.  Beneath  the  sky, 
dyed  in  crimson  and  purple,  the  people  of  Zanah 
bowed  their  heads. 


XIX 

FOR  three  days  after  the  Untersuchung  Zanah  was 
in  mourning.  The  body  of  Wilhelm  Kellar  lay 
in  the  meeting-house,  and  there  the  colonists  spent 
many  hours  in  prayer  and  fasting.  Gerson  Brandt 
shut  himself  in  the  upper  room  where  Wilhelm  Kellar 
had  been  so  long  ill  and  where  Piepmatz  still  hung  in 
the  big  wicker  cage.  The  school-master  sat  for  hours 
looking  towards  the  bluffs  which  shut  out  the  busy 
world.  He  thought  constantly  of  Walda.  He  had 
given  her  a  pledge  that  he  would  make  reparation  for 
his  part  in  the  Untersuchung,  but  his  heart  rebelled 
against  his  task.  He  coveted  Walda  with  all  the 
strength  of  a  nature  in  which  the  best  human  impulses 
had  been  thwarted.  He  knew  that  he  must  give  up 
the  woman  he  loved  to  the  stranger  in  Zanah,  but  his 
soul  cried  out  against  the  fate  that  took  her  from  him. 
He  looked  back  upon  the  years  in  Zanah,  and  he 
knew  that  she  had  become  all  of  life  to  him.  At  first 
he  was  dead  to  the  sense  of  his  own  unfaithfulness  to 
the  colony.  Gradually  he  realized  that  his  had  been 
the  part  of  the  unconscious  traitor.  He  felt  relieved 

271 


W  A  L  D  A 

when  he  looked  forward  to  his  release  from  the  irk 
some  duties  of  a  leader  of  Zanah. 

A  sense  of  terrible  loneliness  took  possession  of  him 
whenever  he  thought  of  the  death  of  his  friend,  but 
his  grief  became  more  poignant  with  the  thought  that 
Wilhelm  Kellar's  death  made  Walda's  departure  from 
the  colony  possible.  There  was  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  go  out  into  the  world  as  Everett's  wife. 
Night  after  night  he  battled  with  himself  to  the  end 
that  he  might  be  strong  enough  to  help  the  woman 
he  loved  to  the  attainment  of  happiness.  He  gained 
many  partial  victories  over  himself,  but  at  first  he 
could  not  summon  the  courage  to  go  to  see  Walda  in 
the  House  of  the  Women  where  she  was  kept  under 
surveillance.  The  day  after  the  Untersuchung  he  com 
pelled  himself  to  ask  that  Everett  be  released,  but  he 
found  that  the  cupidity  of  Adolph  Schneider  had  been 
aroused  by  the  possibility  of  exacting  a  fine  from  the 
stranger,  who  was  locked  in  his  room  at  the  inn.  It 
was  a  rule  of  the  colony  that  a  member  who  brought 
money  into  the  community  should,  in  case  of  depart 
ure  from  Zanah,  receive  just  what  he  had  contrib 
uted.  Wilhelm  Kellar's  share  was  not  small,  and  the 
danger  of  Walda's  marriage,  and  consequent  demand 
for  her  portion  of  her  father's  property,  was  one  that 
the  elders  desired  to  avert. 

"Thou  canst  persuade  Walda  Kellar  that  the  curse 
of  God  will  descend  upon  her  if  she  leaveth  Zanah," 

272 


W  A  L  D  A 

Karl  Weisel  said  to  Gerson  Brandt,  at  the  close  of  a 
long  conference  of  the  elders.  "She  is  suffering  from 
remorse,  and  thou  canst  sway  her  woman's  heart." 

"  I  refuse  to  have  aught  to  do  with  inclining  Walda's 
will  to  the  will  of  Zanah,"  said  the  school-master,  in  a 
tone  so  decisive  that  the  matter  was  dropped. 

It  was  two  days  after  Wilhelm  Kellar's  death  that 
Gerson  Brandt,  who  had  gone  to  look  once  more  upon 
the  still  face  of  his  friend,  encountered  Walda.  The 
girl  was  kneeling  alone  beside  the  bier. 

"See  how  peaceful  he  looketh,"  she  said,  in  a  voice 
that  was  shaken  with  sobs.  "It  is  a  comfort  to  re 
member  that  his  last  words  told  me  and  all  the  people 
that  he  had  forgiven  my  failure  to  fulfil  his  hopes." 

"He  hath  attained  greater  wisdom.  He  knoweth 
that  thou  wast  led  by  a  stronger  power  than  thine  own 
will,"  the  school-master  answered. 

"As  thou  art  my  friend,  point  out  the  path  of  duty 
to  me,"  Walda  implored,  rising  to  her  feet.  "  I  have 
prayed  constantly,  and  it  seemeth  that  it  is  right  I 
should  stay  here  in  Zanah  serving  the  people,  and 
proving  to  them  that  while  love  must  ever  be  in  my 
heart,  I  can  still  follow  in  the  paths  of  righteousness." 

Gerson  Brandt  was  silent.  He  stood  looking  at  her 
as  if  he  would  have  her  image  graven  on  his  mind  for 
all  his  coming  years.  The  tempter  spoke  to  him.  One 
word  of  counsel,  given  as  from  her  father's  friend,  and 
he  could  keep  her  safe  in  Zanah. 

18  273 


W  A  L  D  A 

Art  thou  strong  enough  to  let  Stephen  Everett  go 
back  into  the  world  without  thee?"  he  questioned. 

"I  have  prayed  for  fortitude.  I  have  found  cour 
age  to  think  of  living  on  here  without  him,"  she  re 
plied.  "I  have  seen  myself  an  old  woman  of  Zanah 
who  goes  her  way  dreaming  still  of  the  love  of  her 
youth." 

"Thou  knowest  that  I  would  watch  o'er  thee,"  said 
the  school-master. 

"Yea;  but  thy  brotherly  compassion  hath  not  the 
sustaining  power  of  love." 

"Thou  knowest  not  what  sustaining  power  broth 
erly  compassion  may  reveal." 

Gerson  Brandt's  voice  betrayed  suppressed  emo 
tion,  and,  looking  up,  Walda  saw  that  his  face  had 
become  suddenly  old  and  drawn. 

"  I  have  pained  thee  by  my  seeming  ingratitude  for 
all  thy  kindnesses,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  The  school-master's  face  flushed,  for  her  touch 
made  his  heart  throb. 

The  tempter's  voice  spoke  insistently. 

"Shall  I  send  Stephen  Everett  away?"  Walda 
asked,  after  a  brief  pause.  "Direct  me  aright.  Help 
me  to  do  what  my  father  would  have  me  do." 

Gerson  Brandt  did  not  answer. 

"The  people  of  Zanah  accused  me  of  murdering  my 
father,"  Walda  said,  after  a  long  silence.  "All  the 
night  after  the  Untersuchung  I  was  filled  with  terror, 

274 


W  A  L  D  A 

but  now  I  know  that  I  could  not  have  spared  him  the 
sorrow.  I  was,  indeed,  but  the  instrument  of  fate.  I 
had  to  tell  the  truth  as  it  was  made  clear  to  me.  Oh, 
tell  me  that  thou  dost  not  deem  me  guilty  of  my  fa 
ther's  death." 

She  was  weeping  again,  and  Gerson  Brandt  was 
stirred  to  compassion. 

"Cease  thy  lamentation,"  he  said,  gently.  "  I  have 
thought  much  about  thee  ever  since  thou  didst  make 
thy  confession  of  love.  I  have  come  to  know  that 
thou  must  follow  the  dictates  of  thy  heart.  It  is  right 
that  thou  shouldst  go  out  into  the  world  as  Stephen 
Everett's  wife.  There  thou  wilt  find  pain  and  suffer 
ing,  but  all  will  be  glorified  by  thy  love." 

The  tempter  was  vanquished.  The  school-master 
had  listened  to  him  for  the  last  time. 

"Nay,  speak  to  me  as  my  father  would  speak." 

"As  thy  father's  friend,  and  as  one  who  holds  thee 
in  the  deep  recesses  of  his  heart,  I  tell  thee  to  go  forth 
from  Zanah  with  the  man  thou  lovest." 

"And  do  I  owe  no  duty  to  the  colony?  Is  it  not 
right  that  I  should  strive  to  make  amends  for  my  un 
faithfulness  to  the  trust  reposed  in  me?  Tell  me  the 
whole  truth.  Spare  me  not,  for  I  would  do  the  Lord's 
will." 

"The  colony  hath  forfeited  all  claim  upon  thee, 
for  the  men  and  women  did  shamelessly  flout  thee. 
Thy  father  hath  recompensed  the  people  of  Zanah  a 

275 


W  A  L  D  A 

hundredfold  for  whatever  may  have  been  done  for 
thee." 

Walda  gazed  at  the  face  of  her  dead  father.  Its 
calmness  gave  her  assurance  of  his  forgiveness.  Then 
the  realization  of  her  loss  impressed  itself  on  her.  She 
wept  again.  Stroking  his  stiffened  hands,  she  prayed 
that  he  might  know  she  had  not  meant  to  disregard 
his  teachings  or  to  bring  him  to  dishonor. 

Distressed  at  the  sight  of  her  remorse,  Gerson 
Brandt  urged  her  to  leave  the  meeting-house,  and 
when  she  gave  no  heed  to  him  he  led  her  away,  hold 
ing  her  hand  as  was  his  custom  in  the  years  of  her 
childhood.  Two  colony  mothers  were  waiting  on  the 
steps. 

"Remember  my  counsel,"  said  the  school-master. 
"There  is  but  one  path  for  thee." 

Walda  walked  slowly  towards  the  House  of  the 
Women,  and  left  him  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the 
meeting-house.  A  mist  came  before  Gerson  Brandt's 
eyes,  and  as  it  cleared  away  he  saw  Hans  Peter  run 
ning  up  the  hill. 

"The  stranger,  who  is  still  bound  at  the  inn,  would 
speak  with  thee,"  said  the  simple  one,  when  he  had 
reached  the  meeting-house  steps. 

"What  doth  he  want?"  said  the  school-master. 

"He  hath  not  talked  with  the  village  fool,"  an 
swered  Hans  Peter,  "but  even  the  simple  one  might 
guess  that  he  wants  thee  to  have  him  set  free." 

276 


W  A  L  D  A 

Gerson  Brandt  thought  for  a  moment.  Walda's 
presence  still  exerted  its  influence  over  him.  He  had 
not  the  courage  to  see  the  man  she  loved. 

"Tell  Stephen  Everett  that  I  cannot  go  to  him  until 
after  Wilhelm  Kellar's  funeral,"  said  the  school-mas 
ter,  "and  you  may  give  him  the  message  that  he  may 
trust  me  to  work  for  his  deliverance." 

"  He  hath  made  threats  that  he  will  not  be  patient 
much  longer,"  Hans  Peter  volunteered.  "He  hath 
told  the  Herr  Doktor  that  it  will  cost  Zanah  much  if 
he  is  imprisoned  another  day." 

"According  to  the  laws  of  the  United  States  he  hath 
right  on  his  side,"  declared  Gerson  Brandt. 

"  He  hath  offered  to  pay  much  money  if  they  will  let 
him  take  Walda  Kellar  away,  and  every  hour  that  he 
remaineth  with  his  hands  behind  him  he  is  more 
wasteful  of  his  dollars." 

"Stand  not  here  gossiping,  Hans  Peter.  Hasten 
back  with  my  reply  to  the  stranger's  message,"  ad 
monished  the  school-master,  to  whom  the  words  of 
the  simple  one  had  suggested  an  easy  method  of 
obtaining  permission  for  Walda  to  leave  Zanah.  If 
the  elders  were  seeking  to  profit  financially  from  the 
loss  of  money  as  a  compensation  for  the  loss  of  their 
prophetess,  they  would  be  likely  to  consent  to  let 
Walda  leave  the  colony  on  one  condition — the  forfeit 
of  her  property  rights. 

In  his  room  at  the  inn  Everett  received  Hans  Peter 
277 


W  A  L  D  A 

with  much  impatience,  and,  after  he  had  heard  Ger- 
son  Brandt's  message,  gave  expression  to  his  views 
on  Zanah's  methods  of  dealing  with  strangers. 

"So  I  am  to  remain  bound  until  to-morrow,"  he 
said.  "Since  Diedrich  Werther  consented  to  tie  my 
hands  less  tightly  I  am  not  so  uncomfortable.  But  I 
want  you  to  summon  the  Herr  Doktor  immediately." 

Adolph  Schneider  was  slow  in  making  his  appear 
ance,  and  Everett,  who  had  fretted  under  the  delay, 
was  not  in  his  usual  self-contained  mood. 

"I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  that  I  am  tired  of  this 
outrageous  treatment,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  the  Herr 
Doktor 's  burly  form  appeared  at  the  door.  "You 
must  come  to  an  understanding  with  me  to-night,  or  I 
will  show  you  that  Zanah  cannot  ignore  all  the  laws  of 
the  United  States.  I  will  have  you  and  all  the  leaders 
arrested  for  falsely  imprisoning  me.  I  will  cause  an 
investigation  of  the  affairs  of  the  colony." 

Adolph  Schneider's  fat  face  was  deeply  lined  and 
his  thick  skin  was  a  pallid  yellow.  He  showed  plainly 
that  he  was  worried  with  the  numerous  troubles  that 
had  come  upon  the  colony.  He  sat  upon  the  nearest 
chair,  and,  letting  his  head  sink  into  his  neckcloth, 
studied  Everett  furtively. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me?"  the  prisoner 
asked,  after  his  first  outburst  had  remained  unan 
swered. 

"After  the  funeral  to-morrow  thou  art  to  have  a 
278 


W  A  L  D  A 

trial,  and  then  the  people  of  Zanah  will  fix  thy  pen 
alty." 

"Penalty?  Penalty  for  what?  I  have  broken  no 
law.  I  have  done  nothing  for  which  you  can  deprive 
me  of  my  liberty." 

"Thou  art  not  the  judge  of  that,"  declared  the  Herr 
Doktor.  "Thou  hast  acknowledged  that  thou  hast 
wronged  the  people  of  Zanah,  for  hast  thou  not  offered 
to  pay  a  fine?" 

"I  have  offered  to  buy  my  freedom,  because  I  can 
not  expect  to  obtain  justice  here  among  you  bigots," 
returned  Everett.  "I  warn  you  that  if  you  do  not 
take  this  rope  off  my  arms,  I  shall  see  that  you  do  not 
get  a  penny  from  me,  and  that  you  pay  for  this  week's 
work." 

"So  long  as  Walda  Kellar  is  guarded  it  will  be  safe 
to  let  thee  have  thy  freedom,  but  we  take  no  chances 
now." 

"Walda  Kellar  is  my  promised  wife,  and  I  demand 
her  liberty  as  well  as  my  own." 

"Walda  Kellar  belongeth  to  Zanah,  and  thou  canst 
not  assert  any  claim  to  her,"  Adolph  Schneider  re 
torted,  angrily. 

"You  will  see  what  I  can  do,"  Everett  said.  "But 
I  do  not  want  to  try  coercion.  Give  your  consent  to 
our  marriage,  and  I  will  make  Zanah  a  gift  of  money 
to  signify  my  gratitude." 

The  Herr  Doktor's  little  eyes  glittered, 
279 


W  A  L  D  A 

"How  much?"  he  asked. 

"We  will  not  discuss  terms  until  I  am  freed  from 
these  ropes,"  said  Everett.  "My  imprisonment  would 
be  much  easier  to  bear  if  you  would  let  me  have  my 
hands  free,  so  that  I  can  smoke." 

Adolph  Schneider  surveyed  the  stranger  in  Zanah 
with  a  look  of  suspicion. 

"Zanah  would  not  be  doing  the  will  of  God  if  Wai- 
da  Kellar  was  not  punished  for  causing  her  father's 
death,"  he  remarked. 

"How  dare  you  accuse  her!" 

The  prisoner  strained  his  bonds,  as  if  he  would  use 
his  hands  to  some  purpose  in  defending  the  woman  he 
loved. 

"Her  confession  broke  her  father's  heart,"  said  the 
Herr  Doktor. 

"The  cruelty  of  you  zealots  of  Zanah  made  Wilhelm 
Kellar  die,"  declared  the  prisoner.  "  I  warn  you  to  be 
careful  how  you  blame  an  innocent  girl,  who  simply 
told  the  truth  at  your  Untcrsuchung." 

Everett's  face  was  so  stern  in  its  expression  that  the 
wily  colonist  thought  it  wise  not  to  pursue  the  sub 
ject. 

"When  thou  art  ready  to  make  an  offer  of  money, 
the  elders  will  weigh  it  against  Walda  Kellar's  trans 
gression,"  he  said.  "If  it  is  found  better  for  the 
colony  that  she  be  cast  out  with  thee,  consent  to  the 
marriage  may  be  given."  He  thought  for  a.  moment, 

289 


W  A  L  D  A 

with  his  chin  in  his  neckcloth.  Shaking  his  head,  he 
added:  "There  is  still  a  chance  that  Walda  Kellar 
may  receive  the  true  inspiration.  She  may  yet  lead 
the  people.  It  is  but  small  hope  that  I  can  give  thee." 
He  turned  to  go  out.  * 

"Stop!  How  about  these  ropes?  Have  them 
taken  off,"  Everett  said,  in  a  tone  that  was  menacing. 
"I  shall  be  here  to  my  trial.  Don't  think  I  would 
miss  that.  I  shall  stay  in  Zanah  until  I  can  leave  the 
colony  with  Walda  Kellar." 

Adolph  Schneider  paid  no  attention  to  Everett's 
demand.  Instead,  he  stalked  through  the  door,  his 
cane  pounding  in  unison  with  every  other  step. 


XX 


IT  was  noontime  when  the  colonists  gathered  in  the 
meeting-house  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Wilhelm 
Kellar.  The  bier,  placed  before  the  platform  of  the 
elders,  was  covered  with  flowers  —  the  late  garden 
blossoms  of  autumn.  White  dahlias  and  asters,  in- 
twined  in  wreaths,  almost  concealed  the  lid  of  the 
coffin.  The  women,  who  wore  gowns  of  black  calico, 
gathered  solemnly  on  their  side  of  the  big,  bare  room. 
The  men  stood  in  groups  until  the  elders  had  taken 
their  places  on  the  platform  where  the  vacant  chair  of 
Wilhelm  Kellar  was  draped  in  black.  This  occupied 
the  position  formerly  given  to  the  chair  of  the  proph 
etess,  which  was  pushed  back  and  turned  so  that  it 
faced  the  wall. 

The  bell  tolled  the  age  of  the  dead  elder.  When 
its  fiftieth  stroke  had  died  away  Walda  was  brought 
in  from  the  room  where  she  had  held  her  vigil  be 
fore  the  Untersuchung.  Mother  Werther  and  Mother 
Kaufmann  accompanied  her.  Her  appearance  caused 
a  hush  to  fall  upon  the  assembly,  and  some  of  the 
women  covered  their  eyes,  for  it  was  seen  that  over 
her  black  gown  was  thrown  the  scarlet  cloak,  which 

282 


W  A  L  D  A 

betokened  that  her  soul  was  clothed  in  the  garment  of 
sin.  It  was  the  same  cloak  that  Marta  Bachmann 
had  worn  during  the  time  of  her  probation,  and  some 
of  the  softer-hearted  of  the  colony  "mothers"  prayed 
that  the  fallen  prophetess  might  follow  in  Marta  Bach- 
mann's  footsteps  until  she  reached  the  height  of  final 
repentance.  The  maidens  of  Zanah  gazed  on  Walda 
with  fascinated  eyes.  A  few  were  bold  enough  to 
hope  that  she  might  be  able  to  leave  Zanah  with  the 
stranger  whose  worldly  ways  and  physical  beauty  had 
charmed  even  those  who  had  never  spoken  to  him. 
At  the  head  of  the  coffin  a  stool  had  been  provided  for 
Walda,  and  she  sank  upon  it  as  if  overcome  with  sud 
den  weakness.  For  a  moment  she  bowed  her  black- 
capped  head  in  prayer,  and  then,  looking  unflinching 
ly  into  the  faces  of  the  colonists,  waited  with  courage 
for  the  service  to  begin.  She  was  very  pale,  and  once 
she  threw  off  the  cloak,  as  if  it  smothered  her.  In  a 
second  she  remembered  its  significance,  and  drew  it 
about  her  shoulders. 

From  his  seat  at  one  end  of  the  platform  Gerson 
Brandt,  with  pitying  eyes,  looked  upon  Walda.  His 
thin  face  had  a  pinched  look,  and  from  his  eyes  had 
faded  the  last  smouldering  fires  of  youth  and  hope. 
He  sat  with  hands  tensely  clasped,  except  when,  now 
and  then,  he  pressed  his  thin  fingers  to  his  temples, 
from  which  the  long  hair,  touched  with  gray,  fell  back 
to  his  shoulders. 

283 


W  A  L  D  A 

Karl  Weisel  read  a  long  chapter  from  the  Bible,  and 
then  a  meek  elder  offered  a  prayer.  Adolph  Schnei 
der  next  told  the  people  of  their  dead  brother's  ser 
vices  to  the  colony.  His  thick,  droning  voice,  monot 
onous  in  its  cadences,  did  not  hold  Walda's  attention, 
until  presently  she  knew  he  was  speaking  of  her  and 
accusing  her  of  unfaithfulness  to  Zanah.  She  listened 
with  downcast  eyes,  her  lithe  body  quivering  with 
emotion,  but  she  was  too  proud  to  show  the  pain  she 
suffered.  She  choked  back  the  tears  and  prayed  for 
strength. 

At  last  the  funeral  address  was  finished.  The  bier 
was  carried  out  into  the  golden  sunshine.  Walda  rose 
as  if  to  follow  it,  but  one  of  the  elders  detained  her. 

"Is  it  meet  that  one  who  wears  the  scarlet  cloak 
should  walk  first  behind  the  bier?"  he  asked. 

Gerson  Brandt  answered  by  going  to  Walda's  side, 
pulling  her  arm  through  his,  and  waving  the  people 
aside. 

"He  hath  touched  Walda  Kellar's  hand,  and  he 
is  no  kin  to  her!"  cried  Mother  Kaufmann;  but  the 
school-master  walked  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard  her. 
Tenderly  he  supported  Walda's  faltering  footsteps. 
The  procession  formed  behind  them,  the  men  and 
women  walking  on  opposite  sides  of  the  village  street, 
while  Gerson  Brandt  and  Walda  kept  in  the  middle 
of  the  grass-grown  road,  directly  behind  Wilhelm  Kel 
lar's  coffin. 

284 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Gerson  Brandt,  thou  art,  indeed,  a  friend  in  mine 
hour  of  trouble,"  Walda  said,  when  they  had  reached 
the  strip  of  woods  and  the  bier  had  been  put  down  in 
order  that  its  bearers  might  rest. 

"  Until  death  thou  wilt  be  ever  safe  in  my  heart," 
the  school-master  answered,  solemnly. 

"Pray  that  I  may  have  fortitude  when  I  see  the 
earth  cover  my  father's  body,"  she  whispered,  as  the 
procession  started  again,  and  he  pressed  her  arm  to 
give  her  the  assurance  of  his  aid. 

The  school-master  could  have  prayed  that  the  walk 
to  the  graveyard  might  last  forever.  He  knew  that, 
in  all  the  coming  years  which  might  belong  to  him  on 
earth,  he  might  never  again  touch  her  or  be  close  to 
her.  He  trembled  in  the  excess  of  his  joy.  He  felt  a 
great  strength  taking  possession  of  him.  They  came 
to  the  lake,  and  he  looked  out  upon  it  as  it  lay  undis 
turbed  by  wave  or  ripple.  Around  the  water's  hem 
the  yellowing  willows  dipped  into  the  placid  pool. 
The  sumach  flamed  among  the  oak-trees. 

"When  thou  art  gone  from  me  out  into  the  world  I 
shall  pray  that  thy  soul  shall  be  untroubled  as  is  this 
lake  to-day,"  he  murmured,  softly. 

"Ah!  To-day  I  feel  that  I  must  remain  here  in 
Zanah  to  make  atonement  for  my  betrayal  of  the  peo 
ple's  trust,"  she  answered. 

The  tempter  had  spoken  to  him  for  the  last  time, 
and  so  he  made  haste  to  say: 

285 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Thy  love  leads  the  way  of  thy  duty.  Harbor  no 
longer  the  thought  of  sacrificing  thyself  to  no  pur 
pose." 

They  reached  the  high  gate  of  the  graveyard.  The 
bier  was  carried  to  the  rise  of  ground  where  Marta 
Bachmann's  burial-place  had  been  selected  many 
years  before.  A  grave  had  been  hollowed  out  near 
that  of  the  prophetess  of  revered  memory.  The  col 
onists  gathered  around  it.  Walda  and  the  school 
master  stood  on  one  side  and  the  elders  on  the  other 
while  the  coffin  was  lowered.  The  simple  one,  who 
had  not  been  seen  at  the  meeting-house  or  in  the  pro 
cession,  looked  on  from  a  place  of  vantage  on  the 
gravestone  of  Marta  Bachmann. 

Adolph  Schneider  announced  that  there  would  be 
a  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  An  awkward  pause  fol 
lowed.  It  was  discovered  that  the  Bible  had  been 
forgotten.  The  elders  held  a  conference,  while  the 
villagers  waited  stolidly. 

"  Hans  Peter  shall  be  sent  back  for  the  Holy  Book," 
announced  the  Herr  Doktor,  motioning  to  the  simple 
one. 

Hans  Peter  advanced  with  slow  steps. 

"There  is  a  Bible  here,"  he  said. 

"Bring  it  quickly,  then,"  ordered  the  elder. 

"It  can  be  brought  only  after  an  understanding," 
answered  the  simple  one.  "  Gerson  Brandt's  lost  Bible 
is  hidden  here.  It  belongeth  now  to  the  stranger  in 

286 


W  A  L  D  A 

Zanah.  If  it  is  the  will  of  him  who  made  it  gay  with 
colors  that  it  be  given  to  the  stranger  I  will  bring  the 
Bible  forth." 

"Would  the  fool  make  terms  with  the  elders  of 
Zanah?  Bring  forth  the  Bible,"  commanded  the 
Herr  Doktor. 

Hans  Peter  did  not  stir. 

"Dost  thou  defy  me?"  asked  Adolph  Schneider. 

The  simple  one  made  no  sign  that  he  heard. 

"Speak,"  urged  Gerson  Brandt.  "Stephen  Everett 
shall  have  the  Bible." 

"When  the  promise  is  given  that  the  elders  will  let 
me  deliver  it  to  the  owner  I  will  find  it,"  said  Hans 
Peter. 

The  promise  was  given,  after  a  brief  consultation  of 
the  elders.  Hans  Peter  went  back  to  Marta  Bach- 
mann's  gravestone,  and  from  beneath  it  pulled  out  a 
stout  wooden  box.  This  he  opened  with  some  diffi 
culty,  and  from  it  produced  the  Bible,  which  was 
wrapped  in  oil-cloth.  Gerson  Brandt's  heart  gave  a 
throb  of  joy  when  he  saw  it. 

"  Bring  it  here  to  me,"  he  commanded,  and  the  sim 
ple  one,  almost  staggering  under  its  weight,  obeyed 
the  wish  of  the  school-master. 

The  people  whispered  among  themselves,  and  the 
elders  looked  sullenly  at  the  volume  about  which  there 
had  been  so  many  conjectures. 

"I  will  read  from  the  Scriptures,"  announced  Ger- 
287 


W  A  L  D  A 

son  Brandt,  motioning  to  the  village  fool  to  help  him 
hold  the  heavy  book.  He  turned  to  the  fourteenth 
chapter  of  St.  John,  and,  scanning  a  page  more  beau 
tiful  in  its  illumination  than  all  the  rest,  he  began 
to  read  the  message  of  peace.  After  he  had  finished 
he  closed  the  Sacred  Book.  One  of  the  elders  prayed, 
and  while  the  people's  heads  were  bowed  Hans  Peter 
stole  away  with  the  Bible. 

Diedrich  Werther  began  to  shovel  the  earth  into 
the  grave.  Walda,  with  a  sudden  feeling  of  horror, 
clutched  Gerson  Brandt's  arm,  upon  which  she  buried 
her  face.  The  school  -  master  forgot  the  people  of 
Zanah.  He  leaned  over  her,  whispering  words  of  com 
fort  and  strength.  Half  fearfully  he  touched  her  on 
the  shoulder,  and  bade  her  remember  that  the  Lord 
worketh  in  wondrous  ways.  He  told  her  that  the 
Father  in  heaven  had  planned  for  her  deliverance 
from  Zanah. 

The  people  had  begun  to  leave  the  graveyard  be 
fore  Walda  was  calm.  Two  of  the  colony  "mothers " 
waited  for  her,  and  she  bade  the  school-master  return 
to  Zanah,  leaving  her  alone  with  the  women. 

Gerson  Brandt  hesitated,  loath  to  walk  away  from 
the  place  that  had  become  to  him  one  of  the  outer 
courts  of  heaven. 

"I  would  pray  here  for  a  time,"  Walda  said,  "and 
thou  shalt  be  remembered  in  my  petitions." 

He  looked  at  her,  not  trusting  himself  to  speak. 
288 


W  A  L  D  A 

He  led  her  close  to  the  new-made  grave  and  left  her 
there.  Not  until  he  had  closed  the  graveyard  gate 
behind  him  did  he  dare  to  look  back.  Gazing  with 
straining  eyes  he  beheld  the  prophetess  as  she  lay  face 
downward  on  the  ground,  with  the  scarlet  cloak  still 
wrapped  around  her.  From  a  place  a  little  distant 
the  colony  women  watched  her. 

19 


XXI 

IMMEDIATELY  after  the  funeral  the  colonists  gath- 
1  ered  in  the  village  square  for  the  trial  of  Stephen 
Everett.  The  stocks  still  stood  where  they  had  been 
erected  for  the  punishment  of  Hans  Peter,  and  upon 
the  high  platform  surrounding  the  culprit's  seat  the 
elders  met  for  the  purpose  of  passing  judgment.  The 
prisoner  was  not  brought  from  the  inn  until  after  all 
the  villagers  were  assembled.  He  walked  from  the 
porch  of  the  gasthaus  with  a  step  that  showed  he  was 
glad  to  have  a  chance  to  make  a  plea  for  liberty.  An 
expression  of  scorn  and  anger  was  plainly  visible  on 
his  handsome  face.  He  had  been  inclined  to  accept 
whatever  happened  in  Zanah  as  rather  an  amusing 
experience,  but  the  events  since  the  morning  of  the 
Untersuchung  had  awakened  him  to  a  full  sense  of 
what  he  had  at  stake.  He  meant  to  have  Walda  at 
any  hazard,  but  his  patience  had  been  exhausted  in 
his  tiresome  ordeal  of  imprisonment.  His  old,  care 
less  manner  asserted  itself  when  he  had  ascended  the 
steps  to  the  stocks  and  had  taken  a  seat  upon  the 
great  beam  in  which  the  simple  one's  feet  had  been 
fastened. 

290 


W  A  L  D  A 

At  the  first  sight  of  him  some  of  the  villagers  gave 
vent  to  indignant  murmurs,  which  were  quickly 
quieted. 

"This  man  is  accused  of  being  one  whom  Satan 
hath  sent  to  Zanah,"  announced  Karl  Weisel.  "He 
hath  stolen  the  affections  of  her  who  would  have  been 
our  prophetess;  he  hath  tempted  the  Lord's  chosen 
one  with  an  earthly  love.  He  hath  broken  his  pledge 
to  an  elder  of  the  colony.  Through  his  wicked  plot- 
tings  the  plans  of  Zanah  are  overthrown.  He  hath 
lost  to  the  people  who  serve  God  the  instrument  that 
would  have  led  the  people  in  the  paths  of  pleasant 
ness." 

"He  shall  be  punished!"  shouted  some  of  the 
people. 

"Yea;  he  shall  be  punished,"  agreed  the  head  of  the 
thirteen  elders,  puffing  out  his  chest  and  knitting  his 
brows.  "He  shall  be  punished;  but  is  there  a  penalty 
severe  enough  for  offences  such  as  his?" 

"He  shall  be  made  to  pay  a  fine,"  said  Adolph 
Schneider.  "Many  thousand  dollars  would  not  wipe 
out  the  harm  he  hath  done  to  the  crops  since  we  are 
deprived  of  the  guidance  of  a  prophetess." 

"Cast  him  out  of  Zanah!"  clamored  many  voices. 

At  this  point  Gerson  Brandt  advanced  from  his 
place  at  the  end  of  the  row  of  elders. 

"Who  is  fitted  to  determine  the  stranger's  punish 
ment?"  he  asked. 

291 


W  A  L  D  A 

No  one  answered.  With  arms  folded  upon  his 
breast  Gerson  Brandt  waited  for  a  response. 

"In  this  case  it  seemeth  just  that  only  he  who  hath 
not  succumbed  to  the  same  temptation  that  Stephen 
Everett  hath  found  here  in  Zanah  is  fit  to  choose  a 
penalty  for  this  offence.  Let  the  man  of  Zanah  who 
hath  lived  twenty-one  years  without  loving  a  woman 
say  what  the  stranger's  punishment  shall  be." 

The  men  of  Zanah  stared  at  one  another.  The 
women  tiptoed  to  see  if  they  might  read  long-buried 
secrets  in  the  faces  of  their  husbands  and  brothers. 

"There  must  be  many  here  who  have  escaped  the 
lure  that  lurketh  in  the  eyes  of  women,"  the  school 
master  said,  presently.  "It  may  be  that  my  mean 
ing  hath  not  been  made  plain.  Let  him  who  hath 
attained  the  age  of  manhood  without  knowing  what 
Zanah  calleth  an  earthly  love  judge  Stephen  Everett." 

The  men  of  Zanah  looked  at  one  another  with 
shamefaced  glances. 

"Is  not  he  who  hath  loved  and  repented  a  better 
judge?"  asked  Karl  Weisel. 

"  Nay;  why  should  one  that  hath  been  weak  in  the 
presence  of  woman  judge  another?"  responded  the 
school-master.  "There  are  many  men  of  Zanah  who 
have  never  married.  Why  do  not  they  answer?  Why 
do  not  they  volunteer  to  measure  the  sin  of  loving  a 
woman?" 

A  minute  passed. 

292 


W  A  L  D  A 

"Is  there  none  in  Zanah  qualified  to  judge  the 
stranger?"  inquired  Gerson  Brandt. 

From  the  edge  of  the  crowd  came  the  simple  one. 

"I,  the  fool  of  Zanah,  have  passed  the  age  of  one- 
and-twenty  without  loving,"  he  declared,  in  a  tone 
that  betrayed  not  the  least  trace  of  any  feeling. 

His  face  was,  as  usual,  absolutely  without  expres 
sion. 

"Set  a  fool  to  judge  a  fool,"  sneered  Mother  Schnei 
der.  But  the  men  had  nothing  to  say. 

"What  is  thy  judgment,  Hans  Peter?"  asked  the 
school-master. 

"The  simple  one  would  have  the  stranger  freed," 
said  Hans  Peter.  Standing  with  both  hands  in  his 
pockets,  he  waited  to  be  dismissed.  He  had  uncov 
ered  his  head,  and  as  he  stood  there  before  the  people 
something  of  the  tragedy  of  the  simple  one's  life  was 
revealed  to  Zanah.  He  was  a  creature  apart ;  one  who 
had  reached  the  years  of  manhood  without  attaining 
to  the  full  stature  and  the  full  knowledge  of  maturity. 
Some  strange  recesses  of  his  brain  were  closed  to  mem 
ory,  and  yet  nature  had  made  compensation  by  giv 
ing  him  queer  flashes  of  wit  and  odd  shreds  of  intelli 
gence  that  often  confounded  Zanah.  In  the  crowd 
were  some,  more  superstitious  than  the  rest,  who 
looked  at  the  village  fool  with  fear  written  on  their 
faces. 

"Let  us  free  the  stranger  and  send  him  out  of 
293 


W  A  L  D  A 

Zanah.  He  hath  brought  a  curse  with  him.  The 
sooner  he  goeth  from  among  us  the  better,"  spoke 
Mother  Werther,  who,  since  the  Untersuchung,  had 
gone  about  with  care  marked  upon  her  good-natured 
face. 

"  He  whom  you  call  the  simple  one  is  the  only  man 
in  Zanah  who  hath  not  transgressed  the  colony  law 
forbidding  all  who  would  attain  to  serve  the  Lord  in 
singleness  of  purpose  to  put  away  earthly  love,"  said 
the  school  -  master.  "Would  not  your  own  weak 
nesses  teach  you  lenity?" 

From  his  place  on  the  stocks  Everett  scanned  the 
dull  faces  below  him.  The  idea  of  associating  senti 
ment  or  romance  with  the  heavy-featured  men  of 
Zanah  brought  a  contemptuous  smile  to  his  lips. 

"  How  is  it  that  thou  dost  not  judge  the  stranger?" 
asked  Mother  Kaufmann.  "Surely  thou  hast  not 
loved  a  daughter  of  Eve?"  She  laughed,  mockingly, 
showing  her  hideous  tusks. 

"Let  Gerson  Brandt,  the  elder  and  school-master, 
be  the  judge  of  the  stranger,"  cried  a  sturdy  colonist, 
who  had  been  quietly  looking  on  from  the  porch  of  the 
inn. 

A  chorus  of  voices  bade  the  school-master  deal  with 
the  prisoner. 

Gerson  Brandt  motioned  to  Hans  Peter  to  retire 
from  the  place  in  front  of  the  stocks. 

"Thou  hast  this  day  taught  Zanah  a  lesson,"  he 
294 


W  A  L  D  A 

declared,  in  a  kindly  voice.  "Thy  verdict  is  right. 
It  should  be  accepted  by  the  people." 

"Faugh!  Wouldst  thou  let  a  fool  decide  a  matter 
of  great  importance  to  Zanah?"  angrily  inquired 
Adolph  Schneider,  who  had  with  difficulty  smoth 
ered  his  rage  when  he  saw  the  chief  law  of  the  colony 
made  ridiculous  by  Gerson  Brandt's  declaration  that 
the  man  who  had  never  loved  should  judge  Stephen 
Everett. 

"We  demand  that  the  school-master  shall  fix  the 
penalty,"  shouted  Mother  Schneider.  "He  knoweth 
best  to  what  extent  the  madness  of  an  earthly  love 
hath  afflicted  her  who  would  have  been  a  prophetess ; 
he  hath  lost  his  best  friend  through  the  iniquitous  in 
fluence  of  the  stranger." 

The  people  became  unruly,  for  their  patience  had 
been  tried  by  the  suspense.  They  clamored  for  speedy 
justice  to  him  who  had  made  trouble  for  them. 

"Gerson  Brandt,  thou  shalt  pass  the  verdict,"  said 
Karl  Weisel.  "Since  thou  didst  order  Stephen  Ev 
erett  made  a  prisoner,  thou  shouldst  make  sure  that 
he  suffers  for  his  misdeeds." 

The  school-master  pushed  back  the  hair  from  his 
forehead.  He  waited  for  a  moment,  lifting  his  hands 
to  invite  the  attention  of  the  people. 

"None  is  more  unworthy  to  judge  this  man  for  lov 
ing  a  woman  than  I,  Gerson  Brandt,"  he  said,  with  a 
quaver  in  his  voice.  "It  is  my  desire  that  some  of 

295 


W  A  L  D  A 

you  fix  his  punishment,  for  even  though  you  may  set 
him  free,  I  shall  do  penance  for  him.  I  have  sinned 
against  Zanah  more  than  he." 

"What  meanest  thou,  Brother  Brandt?"  asked 
Adolph  Schneider,  confronting  him.  "Beware  how 
thou  dost  forfeit  the  respect  of  the  people." 

"  I  have  treasured  in  my  heart  an  earthly  love,"  the 
school-master  confessed,  turning  from  Adolph  Schnei 
der  and  speaking  to  the  colonists. 

His  words  caused  even  the  most  stoical  of  the  el 
ders  to  turn  pale.  It  meant  much  to  the  colony  to 
lose  the  school-master  from  among  those  who  man 
aged  the  affairs  of  the  community. 

The  people  heard  and  yet  appeared  not  to  believe 
their  ears.  The  square  became  so  quiet  that  when 
Piepmatz,  hanging  in  his  cage  from  a  rafter  of  the  inn- 
porch,  sang  the  one  bar  of  the  love-song,  the  bird- 
voice  reached  every  one  in  the  throng,  and  presently 
broke  the  spell  of  amazement  that  held  the  villagers. 

"Thy  case  shall  be  taken  up  presently,"  said  Karl 
Weisel,  who  was  the  first  to  recover  from  astonish 
ment.  "Thy  sin  is  minor  to  his,  in  that  thou  didst 
not  love  the  prophetess." 

"Mine  offence  is  greater  than  his,"  answered  Ger- 
son  Brandt.  He  had  gained  complete  control  of  him 
self,  and  he  spoke  in  a  voice  clear  and  unfaltering.  "  I 
have  loved  Walda  Kellar  even  from  the  days  of  her 
childhood  with  a  love  that  is  stronger  than  all  else  in 

296 


W  A  L  D  A 

life.  I  had  thought  that  mine  affection  was  merely 
that  of  a  teacher,  a  counsellor,  a  friend,  until,  through 
the  stranger,  it  became  known  to  me  that  I  loved  her 
who  might  have  been  the  prophetess  as  a  man  loveth 
the  woman  whom  the  Lord  hath  sent  into  the  world 
for  him  to  cherish  until  death.  There  is  no  word  of 
extenuation  for  me.  I  love  Walda  Kellar  with  the 
longing  to  claim  her  from  Zanah  and  all  the  world." 

He  paused,  as  if  the  flood-gates  of  his  heart  had 
broken,  and  the  tide  of  his  emotion  drowned  his  words. 
Stephen  Everett,  who  had  listened  with  a  shamed 
sense  of  his  own  good- fortune,  gazed  upon  the  school 
master's  face  until  he  was  compelled  to  turn  his  eyes 
away,  for  he  saw  despair  and  pain  so  deeply  graven 
there  that  the  pity  of  it  brought  tears. 

' '  In  the  heat  of  what  I  thought  a  righteous  anger  I 
did  order  the  stranger  to  be  bound,"  Gerson  Brandt 
said,  after  a  brief  pause.  "  But  there,  in  the  place  of 
the  Untersuchung,  it  was  made  clear  to  me  that  jeal 
ousy  actuated  me  unworthily  to  use  my  power  as  an 
elder.  For  that  offence,  I  crave  Stephen  Everett's 
pardon  and  Zanah's  forgiveness." 

The  people  were  stirred  with  indignation  and  sor 
row.  They  began  to  speak  to  one  another,  but  Ger 
son  Brandt  compelled  them  to  hear  him  to  the  end. 

"  I  would  ask  you  to  release  the  prisoner  and  to  give 
Walda  Kellar  into  his  keeping.  The  love  I  bear  for 
this  daughter  of  Zanah  hath  in  it  that  which  giveth 

297 


W  A  L  D  A 

me  the  strength  to  surrender  my  heart's  desire,  and  so 
I  crave  for  her  the  happiness  that  cometh  through  the 
love  of  another  man.  I  plead  with  you  to  consent  to 
the  marriage  of  Stephen  Everett  and  Walda  Kellar. 
Send  them  forth  into  the  world  together  this  night. 
Delay  not  in  meting  out  to  them  the  judgment  that 
will  give  them  joy.  The  punishment  is  mine." 

Gerson  Brandt  leaned  against  one  of  the  supports 
of  the  stocks.  He  was  dimly  conscious  that  the  el 
ders  whispered  to  one  another  and  that  the  people 
gathered  in  groups  to  talk  earnestly. 

The  afternoon  was  far  advanced.  A  golden  haze 
had  settled  upon  the  valley.  Above  his  head  the  dry 
leaves  of  the  trees  were  rustled  by  a  gentle  wind  that 
soothed  his  spirit.  He  was  conscious  of  a  sudden 
faintness.  His  little  world,  the  colony  of  Zanah, 
slipped  away  from  him  for  a  moment,  but  he  remem 
bered  that  he  had  not  won  his  battle  for  Walda's  free 
dom,  and  he  steadied  himself,  calling  all  his  senses  to 
serve  him  until  the  end  of  the  day's  ordeal. 

"Art  thou  aware  that  when  an  elder  lets  human 
love  into  his  heart  he  must  be  put  under  the  ban  of 
silence?"  asked  Adolph  Schneider.  "It  is  the  law  of 
Zanah.  Thou  art  the  first  elder  to  prove  himself  too 
weak  for  the  high  office." 

Gerson  Brandt  made  no  response.  Far  down  the 
road  he  caught  sight  of  the  scarlet  cloak  worn  by  the 
fallen  prophetess. 

298 


W  A  L  D  A 

The  elders  continued  their  conference,  presently 
taking  Stephen  Everett  into  their  circle.  The  school 
master  kept  his  eyes  on  the  approaching  figure  of 
Walda,  who  came  towards  the  square  with  lagging 
steps.  Her  attendants  followed  her  closely,  and  when 
the  three  at  last  came  into  the  crowd  he  saw  that  some 
of  the  villagers  gathered  about  them. 

"Will  Walda  Kellar  stand  before  the  stocks,"  com 
manded  Karl  Weisel,  seeing  that  the  fallen  prophetess 
had  come  into  the  square. 

Walda  obeyed  the  summons. 

"Art  thou  willing  to  forsake  Zanah  in  order  that 
thou  mayst  go  forth  into  the  world  with  a  stranger?" 
he  asked. 

Everett  looked  at  her  with  pleading  in  his  eyes,  but 
she  hesitated  before  replying.  He  leaned  forward  in 
an  agony  of  suspense. 

"Tell  the  elders  that  thou  art  under  a  law  high 
er  than  any  of  Zanah,"  prompted  Gerson  Brandt. 
"Thou  art  led  by  the  law  of  love,  which  ruleth  the 
world  outside  the  colony.  This  day  hath  shown  that 
it  ruleth  here,  even  in  Zanah." 

"If  in  leaving  Zanah  I  am  not  ignoring  any  alle 
giance  I  owe  to  the  memory  of  my  father,  I  would  go 
with  Stephen  Everett.  This  love  that  I  bear  to  him 
hath  given  me  a  desire  to  be  always  near  him,"  Walda 
answered. 

"Thou  shalt  be  cut  off  from  the  roll  of  those  who 
299 


W  A  L  D  A 

serve  the  Lord  in  Zanah,"  declared  the  head  of  the 
thirteen  elders.  "Thou  shalt  leave  Zanah  to-night, 
after  the  village  hath  closed  its  doors  on  thee,  so  that 
the  eyes  of  the  men  and  women  may  not  be  offended 
by  seeing  the  beginning  of  thy  journey  into  the  world." 

"I  would  give  vent  to  my  gratitude,"  Walda  said, 
tremulously.  "Even  now  I  prayed  at  my  father's 
grave  that  if  it  be  the  will  of  God  I  might  be  permitted 
to  be  the  wife  of  Stephen  Everett,  and  lo!  when  I  least 
hoped  for  it  my  prayer  hath  been  answered." 

"  Silence !  Dare  not  to  rejoice  in  thy  frowardness  of 
heart  here  before  the  people  of  Zanah,"  Karl  Weisel 
admonished.  "  Remember  that  there  may  be  a  curse 
in  answered  prayer." 

Walda  shrank  under  the  lash  of  his  cruel  words. 
She  glanced  around  her  as  if  seeking  sympathy 
from  some  of  the  women,  but  all  who  were  nearest 
her  drew  their  skirts  away  as  if  they  would  not  be 
denied  by  the  touch  of  her  scarlet  cloak.  Her  pride 
came  to  the  rescue,  and,  drawing  the  crimson  mantle 
around  her,  she  stood  proudly  waiting  for  a  sign  that 
she  might  pass  on. 

"From  this  moment  Walda  Kellar,  once  hailed  as 
the  prophetess  of  Zanah,  is  no  longer  to  be  counted 
with  the  colonists  who  live  in  the  hope  of  earning  an 
entrance  to  heaven  by  walking  in  the  paths  of  right 
eousness,"  announced  Adolph  Schneider,  coming  for 
ward.  "She  hath  listened  to  the  voice  of  Satan,  and 

300 


W  A  L  D  A 

she  hath  been  unfaithful  to  a  most  sacred  trust.  She 
hath  lost  the  gift  of  tongues;  she  hath  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  voice  of  prophecy.  Henceforth,  forever, 
her  name  shall  not  be  spoken  in  Zanah.  Let  her  go 
in  peace,  and  may  she  repent  of  her  sin." 

Some  of  the  colonists  shuddered  as  the  Herr  Doktor 
proclaimed  the  excommunication  of  the  fallen  proph 
etess.  Walda  read  reassurance  and  encouragement 
in  Gerson  Brandt's  face.  She  stood  gazing  up  at  him, 
and  he  held  her  spirit  in  calm  submission. 

"Stephen  Everett  is  hereby  liberated.  He  hath 
consented  to  pay  to  Zanah  a  goodly  fine,  which  is  still 
out  of  proportion  to  his  great  offence,"  Adolph  Schnei 
der  next  announced.  "Through  the  agency  of  Ger 
son  Brandt,  Walda  Kellar  hath  waived  all  claim  on 
her  share  of  the  property  of  Zanah.  She  shall  go 
forth  from  the  colony  penniless,  and  dependent  upon 
the  stranger." 

"That  is  good,"  agreed  some  of  the  men. 

"To-night  Stephen  Everett  and  Walda  Kellar  shall 
leave  Zanah,  even  as  Adam  and  Eve  were  cast  out  of 
the  Garden  of  Eden,"  continued  the  Herr  Doktor, 
pronouncing  the  sentence  so  that  it  might  intimidate 
all  possible  lovers  in  the  colony.  "They  shall  go 
forth,  never  to  return." 

When  Adolph  Schneider  dwelt  on  the  words  "never 
to  return,"  Gerson  Brandt  caught  his  breath  as  if  he 
felt  a  sudden  pain. 

301 


W  A  L  D  A 

"It  is  my  duty  to  pronounce  upon  Gerson  Brandt 
the  ban  of  silence,"  Karl  Weisel  said,  taking  the  Herr 
Doktor's  place  at  the  front  of  the  platform.  "As 
head  of  the  thirteen  elders  I  hereby  declare  to  the  peo 
ple  of  Zanah  that  his  office  of  counsellor  and  guide  to 
the  colony  is  vacant.  Like  the  fallen  prophetess,  he 
hath  forfeited  all  right  to  a  high  place  in  Zanah  by 
opening  his  heart  to  an  earthly  love." 

Walda  could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
She  glanced  questioningly  among  the  women,  as  if  she 
would  discover  the  one  upon  whom  the  school-master 
had  bestowed  his  heart,  but  she  received  such  looks 
of  anger  and  indignation  that  she  turned  to  Gerson 
Brandt,  as  if  she  would  read  his  secret.  He  gave  her 
a  smile,  and  she  listened  sadly  to  the  terrible  sentence 
pronounced  upon  him. 

"  For  the  space  of  a  year  no  man  or  woman  of  Zanah 
shall  speak  to  Gerson  Brandt,"  the  elder  continued,  in 
a  loud  voice.  "Although  he  hath  been  the  school 
master,  the  children  shall  not  be  permitted  to  utter 
one  word  to  him.  He  shall  no  longer  be  a  teacher  in 
the  colony.  Instead,  he  shall  dwell  alone,  avoided 
by  all.  Because  Zanah  harboreth  no  drones,  he  shall 
serve  the  colony  as  night-watchman.  During  all  the 
hours  of  darkness  he  shall  pace  up  and  down  the  street 
of  Zanah.  He  shall  call  out  the  hours  from  sunset 
until  sunrise,  and  he  shall  be  forgotten  by  all  who 
serve  the  Lord." 

302 


W  A  L  D  A 

Gerson  Brandt  heard  the  words  unmoved,  as  if  the 
sentence  were  of  little  concern  to  him.  In  a  moment, 
after  Karl  Weisel  ceased  speaking,  his  thoughts  were 
far  away.  He  exulted  over  the  solitude  before  him. 
He  knew  that  he  could  live  in  memories;  precious 
dreams  would  be  his.  Each  night,  while  he  walked 
alone,  he  told  himself  that  he  could  send  to  Walda  his 
best  hopes.  He  could  speak  her  name  in  his  prayers. 
After  all,  he  had  triumphed  over  himself  and  over  the 
laws  of  Zanah.  Unconsciously  he  drew  his  thin  body 
to  its  full  height.  The  light  of  victory  illumined  his 
face.  He  looked  at  Walda  and  saw  that  she  was 
weeping  for  him.  Then  he  was  troubled. 

"This  sentence  is  monstrous,"  Everett  asserted, 
with  wrath  in  his  voice.  "Gerson  Brandt  shall  come 
out  into  the  world  with  me.  Walda  Kellar  and  I  owe 
him  whatever  of  happiness  may  be  ours  in  the  future, 
and  we  shall  see  that  he  has  some  of  the  joys  of 
life." 

"Nay,  nay,"  spoke  Gerson  Brandt.  "I  would  be 
out  of  place  in  the  great  world.  I  thank  thee,  but  I 
am  better  here.  I  shall  be  quite  contented  to  remain 
in  Zanah.  Outward  conditions  count  for  naught." 

When  Everett  still  would  have  insisted,  he  showed 
such  evident  embarrassment  and  uneasiness  that  it 
was  kindlier  to  cease  to  importune  him. 

"Stephen  Everett,  thou  shalt  take  Walda  Kellar  to 
the  gasthaus,  there  to  wait  until  darkness  falls,"  snarl  - 

303 


W  A  L  D  A 

ed  Adolph  Schneider,  who  had  begun  to  feel  that  he 
had  not  made  the  stranger's  fine  large  enough. 

Everett  hastened  to  Walda's  side.  When  he  gently 
took  her  by  the  arm,  Gerson  Brandt  turned  his  head 
away.  The  crowd  began  to  disperse.  The  school 
master  walked  down  the  steps  from  the  stocks.  All 
the  colonists  pretended  not  to  see  him.  As  he  crossed 
the  square  a  little  girl  ran  to  him,  clasping  her  arms 
about  his  knees.  He  stooped  to  disengage  himself, 
and  a  woman  snatched  the  child  away  from  him.  A 
few  steps  farther  on  several  of  the  boys  who  had  been 
his  pupils  ran  away  from  him,  one  hiding  behind  a 
tree  to  peep  at  him,  as  if  he  were  an  evil  thing.  He 
had  not  reached  the  bridge  before  he  felt  some  one 
touch  him  on  the  arm.  It  was  Hans  Peter. 

"I  shall  dwell  with  thee,"  said  the  simple  one. 
"The  laws  of  Zanah  rule  not  the  village  fool." 


XXII 

EVERETT  led  Walda  into  the  living-room  of  the 
inn  and  shut  the  door.  Taking  the  red  cloak 
from  her  shoulders,  he  tenderly  placed  her  in  one  of 
the  big  rocking-chairs. 

"From  this  moment  you  are  always  to  be  in  my 
care,"  he  said.  "Ah,  Walda,  I  cannot  realize  that  at 
last  you  are  to  be  mine — all  mine." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Stephen,  it  is  strange,  but  now  that  I  am  about  to 
go  out  into  the  great  world  with  thee  I  am  full  of  mis 
givings,"  she  replied. 

He  knelt  beside  her,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said: 

"You  have  had  a  tragic  day.  You  are  exhausted. 
Surely,  you  are  not  afraid  to  trust  yourself  to  me?" 

"Nay,  nay.  When  thou  art  close  to  me  I  feel  safe 
from  all  trouble;  yet  my  heart  trembles.  Thy  love 
hath  a  power  that  affrights  me." 

He  had  risen  and  kissed  her,  drawing  her  head  upon 
his  breast  and  holding  it  there.  She  hid  her  face  with 
a  sudden  shame  while  she  asked: 

"Are  we  to  be  married  to-morrow,  Stephen?" 

"  It  was  the  agreement  that  we  should  leave  Zanah 
3°5 


W  A  L  D  A 

at  midnight.  We  shall  drive  to  a  town  twenty-five 
miles  away,  and  there,  at  sunrise,  you  and  I  will  at 
tend  our  own  wedding." 

"Thou  art  sure  that  my  father  would  have  had  it 
so?" 

"Yes,  Walda;  I  would  have  gained  his  consent. 
You  are  to  forget  all  the  troubles  that  my  love  has 
brought  to  you.  I  shall  try  to  atone  for  every  heart 
ache  of  these  last  few  days." 

"Our  love  was  sent  from  heaven.  Truly  thou  be 
lie  vest  that?" 

"Fate  has  given  you  to  me.  You  must  not  ask  any 
more  questions.  We  are  to  begin  to  be  happy  now." 
He  stroked  her  cheek  and  soothed  her  as  if  she  were 
a  child,  and  his  great  strength  gave  her  confidence. 
"The  first  thing  that  I  shall  do  will  be  to  send  for 
your  white  gown,  so  that  you  can  take  off  this  mourn 
ing,"  he  said,  lightly,  when  he  saw  that  she  was  more 
composed.  "I  bought  from  the  elders  the  white 
gown  and  the  red  cloak,  for  both  have  a  significance 
for  us — both  have  marked  great  days  in  our  lives." 

She  smiled  faintly,  and  he  began  to  unpin  the  black 
cap  that  she  wore.  It  was  securely  fastened  to  her 
fair  hair.  He  had  to  ask  her  assistance  in  getting  rid 
of  it.  When  it  was  loosened  he  threw  it  on  the  floor, 
and  then  walked  off  to  look  at  her.  She  was  very  pale, 
after  the  sorrow  and  excitement  of  the  day.  Her 
black  gown  accentuated  the  fairness  of  her  skin,  and 

306 


W  A  L  D  A 

her  clear  -  cut    features  were   brought    out    in    relief 
against  the  dark  back  of  the  chair. 

"You  are  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have  ever 
seen,"  he  said,  with  the  fervor  of  sincerity.  "How 
often  you  will  hear  your  praises  sung  when  you  belong 
to  the  world." 

"Art  thou  teaching  me  vanity  so  soon,  Stephen?" 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh,  for  she  was  in  no  mood  for 
gayety. 

"I  am  half  afraid  to  take  you  into  the  world,"  he 
answered,  with  some  seriousness.  "You  see,  I  have 
my  misgivings.  But  you  did  not  tell  me  what  dis 
turbed  you.  Come  over  here  to  Mother  Werther's 
sofa,  where  you  can  whisper  to  me  all  the  vague  fears 
of  your  heart." 

"Thou  knowest  I  shall  need  thy  charity  often 
times,"  Walda  said,  after  Stephen  had  made  her  rest 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  "  I  shall  not  understand 
many  of  thy  ways  —  even  thy  thoughts  will  be  too 
deep  for  me  to  understand." 

Everett  laughed. 

"You  forget  that  you  have  wisdom  and  goodness 
that  I  can  never  fathom." 

"  Here  in  Zanah  those  who  love  soon  weary  of  each 
other.  Surely,  it  is  not  so  in  the  world,  where  earthly 
love  is  not  counted  a  sin.  Is  it?"  she  questioned. 

"Our  love  is  for  all  our  life,"  he  said,  softly.  "I 
shall  be  faithful  to  it  always." 

3°7 


WALDA 

"And  thou  wilt  be  patient  with  me?  Thou  wilt 
teach  me  all  that  I  should  learn,  if  I  would  be  thy 
worthy  companion?" 

"I  would  not  have  you  changed  in  any  way,Walda." 

"  Ah!  but  love  bringeth  wisdom,  and  I  have  thought 
much  about  our  marriage.  I  shall  be  unlike  all  the 
people  thou  knowest.  When  Gerson  Brandt  said  he 
would  be  out  of  place  in  the  great  world,  his  words 
smote  me." 

"You  shall  learn  all  that  you  need  to  know  about 
the  ways  of  the  world,"  Everett  promised,  easily. 
"Is  there  any  other  subject  that  is  causing  you  ap 
prehension?" 

"Nay;  none  that  I  may  voice  to  thee.  When  a 
woman  is  about  to  give  herself  to  the  man  she  loveth 
there  is  a  tumult  in  her  heart.  It  is  of  mingled  faith 
and  fear.  Love  carrieth  both  with  it,  for,  while  it  ex 
alts  the  soul,  it  bringeth  the  wisdom  that  hath  a  far 
sight  of  the  meanings  and  mysteries  of  life." 

Walda  put  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and,  look 
ing  into  his  eyes,  saw  in  them  something  that  gave  her 
courage. 

"  Let  us  be  grateful  in  this  hour  of  our  deliverance," 
she  said,  rising.  "Have  the  white  gown — my  wed 
ding-gown — brought  to  me." 

Everett  went  up  to  the  room  he  had  occupied  dur 
ing  his  last  sojourn  in  Zanah,  leaving  Walda  alone 
while  he  made  his  preparations  for  the  journey. 

308 


W  A  L  D  A 

Walda,  leaning  on  the  window-sill,  looked  out  upon 
the  quiet  village  that  had  been  so  long  her  home. 
One  by  one  the  lights  in  the  stone  houses  on  the  wind 
ing  street  went  out.  The  footsteps  of  chance  passers- 
by  became  less  frequent.  The  noises  in  the  inn  were 
hushed.  At  last  every  door  was  closed  against  her. 

When  the  tall  clock  struck  eleven,  Everett  entered 
the  room.  The  solitary  candle  had  burned  out,  and 
Walda  was  sitting  in  the  darkness. 

"Can  you  see  to  find  your  cloak?"  he  asked.  "It 
is  time  for  us  to  start." 

Walda  caught  up  the  wrap  from  its  place  on  the 
sofa,  and  followed  Everett  out  on  the  porch  of  the 
gasthaus.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  anywhere. 

"The  carriage  will  be  waiting  for  us  on  the  other 
side  of  the  square  beneath  the  old  oak-tree,"  said 
Everett.  "  Don't  you  want  to  say  good-bye  to  Piep- 
matz,  or  would  you  like  to  take  him  with  you?" 

"Nay,  Stephen;  Piepmatz  is  like  the  others  that 
dwell  in  Zanah.  He  would  not  feel  at  home  in  the 
great  world,"  Walda  answered,  going  to  the  cage 
where  the  chaffinch,  with  his  head  beneath  his  wing, 
slumbered  in  happy  unconsciousness  of  the  influence 
of  love-songs. 

On  the  bridge  appeared  a  lantern.  It  came  tow 
ards  the  inn,  and  when  it  was  a  few  feet  away  the 
form  of  the  bearer,  Gerson  Brandt,  was  discerned. 
By  his  side  walked  Hans  Peter. 

3°9 


W  A  L  D  A 

"I  was  afraid  I  should  not  have  the  chance  to  say 
good-bye  to  thee,  Gerson  Brandt,"  Walda  exclaimed, 
going  down  the  steps  to  meet  him.  Everett  drew  the 
simple  one  away,  with  the  excuse  that  they  would  go 
to  see  whether  the  carriage  had  come. 

"  Nay,  at  any  cost,  I  meant  to  send  thee  out  into 
the  world  with  my  blessing,"  Gerson  Brandt  answered. 
He  set  down  his  lantern  and  put  his  hands  behind  him 
lest  he  should  be  tempted  to  touch  her. 

"  It  seemeth  selfish  of  me  to  be  so  happy  when  thou 
art  sad,  Gerson  Brandt."  Walda  put  her  hand  upon 
his  arm,  and  they  looked  into  each  other's  faces  with 
something  of  the  old  frankness  in  their  glance. 

"  In  this  hour  of  parting  it  is  good  to  know  that  thou 
leavest  Zanah  with  a  light  heart."  Gerson  Brandt 
spoke  bravely,  but  his  lips  quivered.  "Farewell, 
Walda.  If  I  never  behold  thy  face  again,  remember 
thine  image  is  ever  treasured  in  the  memory  of  a  man 
of  Zanah.  To  him  thou  wilt  never  grow  old.  Here 
in  my  thoughts  thou  shalt  dwell  always  in  thy  youth 
and  beauty." 

He  trusted  himself  to  let  one  hand  reach  out  above 
her  head. 

"Peace  go  with  thee.  The  Lord  bless  and  keep 
thee,"  he  said,  softly,  lifting  his  face  to  heaven,  be 
cause  he  could  no  longer  depend  upon  his  human 
strength. 

They  stood  silent  for  a  moment. 
310 


W  A  L  D  A 

Everett  and  Hans  Peter  returned  to  the  inn  to  say 
that  the  carriage  was  waiting. 

"Thou  shalt  have  Piepmatz,  if  thou  art  willing  to  be 
burdened  with  the  care  of  the  chaffinch,"  said  Walda, 
speaking  to  the  simple  one. 

"Nay,  give  him  to  both  of  us,"  pleaded  Gerson 
Brandt  so  earnestly  that  she  bestowed  the  bird  upon 
him  and  Hans  Peter,  with  the  injunction  that  they 
must  not  disagree  over  the  partnership. 

Everett  put  the  scarlet  cloak  upon  Walda's  shoul 
ders  and  led  her  away.  She  went  without  waiting  to 
say  a  last  word  to  the  man  of  Zanah,  who  had  lifted 
his  lantern  and  held  it  so  that  it  might  give  her  light. 
Gerson  Brandt  would  have  gone  on  ahead  illuminat 
ing  the  way,  but  a  sudden  weakness  overcame  him 
when  he  saw  that  Walda  had  forgotten  his  presence 
in  the  excitement  of  her  departure.  He  sank  upon 
the  well -curb,  at  the  very  place  where  Everett  had 
first  seen  him  and  Walda  speak  to  each  other.  He 
listened  for  the  wheels  of  the  carriage.  He  heard  the 
horses  start  and  then  stop  suddenly.  Hans  Peter 
had  run  out  of  the  inn  carrying  on  his  shoulders  the 
illuminated  Bible  which  had  become,  by  right  of  pur 
chase,  the  property  of  the  stranger. 

Gerson  Brandt  quelled  in  his  heart  the  rebellion  he 
felt  because  to  him  was  denied  even  the  privilege  of 
giving  to  Walda  the  Sacred  Book  into  which  he  had 
wrought  so  many  of  his  best  thoughts  and  most  pre- 

311 


W  A  L  D  A 

cious  hopes.  He  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  waiting 
patiently  until  he  should  know  that  the  woman  he 
loved  had  gone  forever  beyond  his  reach. 

The  horses'  hoofs  struck  the  soft  road  with  a  muf 
fled  sound.  The  wheels  started  a  second  time.  Ger- 
son  Brandt  closed  his  ears  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
rising,  listened  for  the  last  sound  of  the  carriage.  He 
was  still  standing  in  the  deserted  square  when  Hans 
Peter  spoke  to  him. 

"  It  is  almost  the  beginning  of  a  new  hour,"  the  fool 
said. 

Gerson  Brandt  examined  his  big,  silver  watch  by 
the  light  of  the  lantern. 

"Midnight!"  he  called,  in  a  voice  out  of  which  all 
hope  had  gone.  "Midnight! — 

"And  all  is  well!"  cried  the  simple  one,  taking  up 
the  words  that  Gerson  Brandt  had  not  power  to 
speak. 


THE     END 


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